


Above All

by mcostar



Series: Above All [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, F/M, POV Alternating, POV First Person, occcasional scenes of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 74,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4476671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcostar/pseuds/mcostar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It stopped being about the business a long time ago. This is about love, power, betrayal.</p>
<p>This is personal.</p>
<p>WARNING: Rated E for language, graphic violence, and sexual scenes. May be triggering for some.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Late Nights and a Fucking Hangover

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction, and while there's a lot of offensive language and volence used, I myself don't associate with it nor am I implying One Direction does. Also, some of these things are just unrealistic and made up for the story. If I do get anything completely wrong, though, just let me know and I'll change it.

I'm not quite sure how it happened.

One minute I was standing next to Soph, the two of us drunk off our asses, and the next I was pressed up against some stranger with a demigod complex. I'm not complaining, though—he was easily the most attractive man in the club, and I've seen my fair share of attractive men walk into Midnight. He was all tensed jaw and moody smolder, leaning against the bar as if this was the last place he wanted to be. I thought he was crazy for wearing a leather jacket inside of a hot, sweaty, semen-charged nightclub, but it just added to his appeal.

I nudged Soph, who was working on her tenth drink of the night, and pointed in his direction. She made a face of approval.

“He's hot,” she nodded. “Yeah, I’d definitely love to pin that down and give him a piece of this Sophia magic.”

I laughed at her; she was so fucking drunk I don’t even think _she_ knew what she was saying anymore. “Aren't you getting married to my brother in, like, three months?” I asked her.

She sighed, holding her hand out and admiring the impressive ring Liam had gotten her. “I know. A girl can look, can't she?”

I shook my head, knowing she was just joking; Soph and Liam were crazy about each other.

“Do you think I should go over there?” I asked. I glanced over at him again, only to squeak and turn away when I saw him staring back at me.

She nodded, picking the straw out of her drink and throwing it over her shoulder before downing it all in one go. “I don’t see why not. You look good, he looks good—you're perfect for each other.”

I shook my head again, not knowing why I still kept Soph around. “Okay. Wish me luck.”

“Knock ‘em dead, sexy,” she called, smacking my ass as I walked away. “And if you don’t screw him tonight, lie to me tomorrow and tell me that you did.”

I snorted; _that_ was why I kept her around.

I casually walked over to the bar, hopping onto the stool as I waited for the bartender to turn around and take my order. I winked at him when he did, finding amusement in the way he blushed and almost dropped the glass he was cleaning.

“How are you tonight, Jules?” he asked once he composed himself.

I shrugged. “Same as always, Niall. I turned twenty-one a few days ago, and Soph and I are out celebrating. You can serve me a drink and not feel guilty about it now.”

He chuckled. “Sounds to me like you’ve had enough already.”

I pouted. “Oh, but no one makes my drink the way you do. That new guy doesn’t do it right, it doesn’t quite have that Niall Horan charm.”

He glared playfully at me. “Flattery ain't gonna get you nowhere around here, Jules,” he chided, but pulled out a clean glass and began to make my drink. I grinned, reaching up to pinch his cheek.

I’d forgotten all about cute stranger as Niall handed me my drink, and when I looked over, he was gone. I sighed, finishing the weak cocktail and grabbing my bag so I could leave. Tonight wouldn’t have been a good night to get laid anyway; I could practically feel the makeup melting off my face and my dress was a little hard to get off. I didn’t want to make the guy work _too_ hard.

“Niall?” I started as I hopped off the stool. I waited for him to look up before I continued. “The next time I ask you to fix me drink, fix me a goddamn drink. If I wanted cranberry juice, I would've spent the night at my grandmother’s house.”

He laughed. “Goodnight, Jules.”

I threw a wave over my shoulder as I stumbled through the crowd and to the door. Hailing a cab was easy with the way I was dressed, and I slid inside, about to rattle off the address to the apartment I shared with Soph when someone was yelling for me to hold it, sliding in beside me. I hated sharing cabs and was about to scoff at whoever it was when I noticed it was the stranger from the bar, holding a glowing cigarette between his fingers. I quickly looked away, checking myself in the reflection to wipe of any smears of makeup. God was giving me another chance to fuck this man and I'll be damned if I don't take it.

"You can't smoke in this cab," the driver grunted in a heavy Queens accent, staring at the man through the rear view mirror.

He shrugged, tossing it out the open window.

"Where are you headed?" the driver asked, his eyes glancing back and forth between the two of us.

The man rattled off his address, and, with a smirk, I replied, "Where he's going."

He turned to face me, an amused smile on his face. "Aren't you that girl from the bar?"

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. His accent was weird and I couldn't place which part of the city he was from, but I liked it, wanting to hear him talk some more. "The one and only."

"And what makes you think I fuck on the first date?"

I let my eyes travel down his lean frame, the lights blurring past providing enough illumination to make it out. "With a face like that, I _know_ you do."

He snorted, but otherwise didn't object. I did a little victory dance inside my head, willing the cab driver to hurry up so I could run my tongue along what I assumed to be a nicely chiseled chest.

When we reached his apartment he paid the driver, wrapping his long fingers around my wrist and pulling me behind him.

His apartment was decent, not as big as mine and Soph's, but it was clean, and didn't have that single guy smell.

It didn't take long for us to get down to business once he had shut the door, spinning me around and pressing me up against it.

"What's your name, doll?" he asked, his mouth nipping at the base of my throat as he simultaneously ground his hips into me.

"Julietta," I breathed out. "But you can call me Jules."

I felt his lips stretch into a smile. "Jules," he said slowly, feeling it out on his tongue. "I like it."

I chuckled as best as I could. "Glad you approve."

"Aren't you gonna ask for my name?" he said cockily, his hands running down my sides until they stopped at my hips. "You might need it for later."

I bit my lip when he ground his hips again. "Yeah sure, whatever."

His grip on my hips tightened before he whispered into my ear, "It's Zayn." And then he pressed our lips together. And fuck me, he was just as good with that mouth as I was hoping he'd be.

"Well, Zayn," I said when he pulled away. "I think we should take this somewhere else. Unless you _want_ to fuck me up against the door—"

He cut me off with another kiss. "Do you always talk this much?"

I scoffed. "Oh, fuck off."

"Still too much talking, babe," he smirked as he pulled me towards his bedroom by my hips.

I scoffed again, deciding to actually shut up for once. I kicked the door to his bedroom shut, surprised I didn't fall over in these ridiculous heels. I reached down to sling them off when Zayn stopped me.

"Leave them on."

_Well, fuck me._

I smiled at him as sexily as I could. He walked backwards inside his room until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed.

"I'm not usually this forward," I muttered as I pushed him down onto the bed. I was drunk and desperate—it's been months since I last got laid—but he didn't seem to mind as I yanked his jeans down. "But I just really want to put your dick in my mouth."

He made a strange sound and I smiled to myself. Good. It's been so long I wasn't sure if I still had that Julietta charm. I crawled onto the bed, planting myself between his legs before I ran my finger along the waistband of his boxers. I wanted to tease him, make him squirm, but I just didn't have the patience. I hastily removed his boxers, tossing them over my shoulder as I stopped to admire his cock.

It was glorious, really.

I didn't admire long, bending down to wrap my lips around it and swirling my tongue like it was the best damn lollipop I'd ever come across. Zayn grunted, grabbing a fistful of my hair and thrusting up into my mouth. I took him expertly. I pulled back, twirling around the head as I pumped the rest. He threw his head back, fisting my hair tighter.

I could tell he was close when his thrusts started to get more frantic, and I pulled back, straddling his hips and placing my hands on his chest to balance myself. He sat up, out of breath, and I felt him feel for the zipper of my dress.

"How the fuck do you get this thing off?" He asked, running his hands along my back.

I rolled my eyes. "It's on the side." I reached under my armpit to pull the zipper down. The dress was so damn tight that it didn't even move, staying glued to me as Zayn practically peeled it off. I climbed off of him, sliding the dress all the way off, swaying my hips as I did. He bit his lip before reaching to pull his own shirt off. I sighed, almost reaching to wipe away a tear. He was all smooth planes and black ink and I remembered my ealier sentiment of running my tongue across his chest. As my eyes panned across his tattooed chest, I realized that nothing had changed.

He was fully naked while I still had my underwear on, so I hooked my finger under the waistband and slung them off in one fluid motion. I could tell by the clouded look in his eyes that he liked what he saw, and I slowly walked back over to him, climbing on the bed and straddling his hips again. His cock was standing nice and tall and I grabbed it, running it along my practically dripping slit. The moan produced from him was absolutely heavenly.

"Get on your back," he ordered and I complied. He reached over and pulled out a condom, wasting no time lining himself up after he rolled it on. I squirmed; I was so wet he'd probably just slip right in.

He eased himself in and we both moaned; it had been a long, _long_ time since I'd last gotten laid and he was bigger than I was used to. He didn't wait very long for me to adjust before pulling out and thrusting back into me. And, fuck, I wasn't going to last long at all.

I bucked my hips, trying to meet his thrusts and we both cried out, Zayn leaning down to capture my lips with his. He hit a particularly deep spot and I broke the kiss to cry out his name. He smiled crookedly, bending my leg so my knee was resting on my chest. I was seeing stars at how deep he was, his hips snapping forward and pounding into me like a jackhammer. The most obscene sounds were coming out of my mouth but, fuck, I didn't care. Zayn's dick was sculpted by the gods above and I wanted the heavens to know how fucking thankful I was for it.

"Z-Zayn," I cried out, raking my nails down his back. "I—I'm…"

"Yeah," he breathed out, sweat beading along his forehead. "Yeah, me too."

His hand slid between us and he started to rub my clit. I gasped, my back arching off the bed as I came, a little caught off guard.

"Fuck," he muttered before burying his head in my neck. He was moving impossibly fast and I whimpered at the sensitivity. With one last thrust he stilled above me, his head tipped back and his mouth open with no sound coming out. Seeing Zayn come was the filthiest thing I ever experienced, everything about him screaming _sex._

He pulled out of me, moving to throw the condom away while I lay there motionless. Even when I was actively fucking, I'd never had sex that good. I was still trying to remember what the fuck my name was when Zayn came back, perched on the edge of the bed as he lit a cigarette.

"You need me to call you a cab?" He said, and it was meant to come out cold and harsh but instead sounded concerned.

I shook my head, the smoke bringing me out of my post-sex haze. I reached over and pulled the cigarette from his fingers, taking a drag before handing it back. He stared at me, amused, as I leaned against the headboard and blew it out.

"No, I have a ride. I just need to call and ask him to pick me up," I said, wanting another pull from his cigarette.

"Him?"

"My brother."

"Oh."

I was still sprawled out on the bed, chest still heaving. That cigarette probably wasn't a good idea, but I needed it, and it did at least help clear my head. I sighed, grabbing my phone out my purse to shoot Liam a text before pushing myself off the bed and collecting my dress off the floor. I ditched the panties, smiling to myself as I balled them up and pushed them into the same drawer he'd gotten the condom from.

"What's your last name?" He asked, lighting another cigarette while I shimmied into my dress.

I shrugged. "That's not important—"

"It is to me."

I stopped, standing up straight with my hands on my hips. I hadn't pulled the dress up all the way and my tits were still hanging out. "It's Payne. Jules Payne."

He nodded, a smile slowly breaking out over his face. "Nice to meet you, Jules Payne. I'm Zayn Malik."

I laughed loudly; he was trying to be cute, even though he'd just been screwing my brains out not twenty minutes ago.

"You don't have to pretend to be nice to me, Zayn, I know what this was," I told him, my voice fading out as I looked down. My dress was fully on now, my heels hooked on my fingers.

"What was it?"

I blew out a breath, watching my bangs fly up on my forehead. "Look, I'm not some—some whore, okay? I just wanted to have a good time, and I thought you were hot."

He looked around himself. "Who's out here calling you a whore? I just wanted to know your name."

"You're acting like you want to see me again," I said, frowning. "We hooked up—had some great sex—but that's it. I'm not looking for anything else."

He stared at me for a second before shaking his head. My phone went off before he could reply to that.

"My brother's outside," I muttered, making sure I had everything before leaving his bedroom without a glance towards him.

He'd freaked me out, asking about my name and shit. I was nearly out the door when I stopped, against my better judgement, to write my number down on a slip of paper and leave it on a table near the door.

 

***

 

Liam had his lips pursed when I entered his car, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.

"I can't picking you up like this, Jules," he said the minute I had the door closed.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Hello, Liam. Yes, I'm doing fine, thanks for asking."

"I'm serious," he said, turning to look at me before he pulled away. "You're twenty-one, Jules, you need to start acting like an adult."

I ignored him, staring out the window.

"And stop dragging Sophie with you. She's a good girl and we're about to get married soon."

I snorted. "Who do you think suggested we go out tonight?"

Liam remained silent.

"And Soph was my best friend long before she met you, so you can stop pulling the fiancé card. It's not gonna work."

Liam sighed. "I'm just trying to look out for you, Jules. What are you gonna do when Sophie moves in with me? How are you gonna pay for the apartment without a job?"

I shrugged, getting annoyed. Liam was always doing this shit, trying to get me to turn my life around when I was drunk at two in the morning. "Daddy won't let—"

"Dad's getting tired of your shit—we all are."

I gaped at him. "Why are you attacking me? I just needed a ride. If I knew you were gonna bitch me out I would've let Zayn call me a cab."

"Oh, he has a name?" Smartass. "He must be pretty special—"

Yeah, he stopped talking when I popped him in the mouth. He didn't say anything for the rest of the ride, and neither did I.

I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt when he pulled up to my apartment, ready to get the fuck outta there. I was just about to slam the door when he stopped me.

"Jules," he said, and I paused with my back turned. "Don't take anything I said the wrong way. I really am worried about you."

"I can take care of myself, Liam," I said.

"Just try and be sober for Sunday dinner tomorrow!" He called before I slammed the door in his face.

He waited until I was in before pulling away. I was too lazy and too wobbly to take the stairs, pushing the button for my floor. I had taken my heels off the second I entered the building and shifted from foot to foot while I waited for the elevator to arrive. We may live in a nice apartment, but that elevator didn't work for shit. It was there for convenience, not speed.

I finally reached my floor, struggling to get the key in lock. I got it open after a few tries and smiled when I pushed the door open. Soph was passed out on the couch, probably waiting up for me; she hadn't even bothered to change or wash the makeup off her face. I would try to wake her up or help her to her room but I know from past experiences that there's not much of a point. She was taller than me, and slept like a log when she was drunk. I threw a thick blanket over her, ruffling her hair before hopping in the bed myself.

I tried not to think about all that shit Liam had said in the car. He made it sound like I was out with a different guy every night, when I hadn't been out like this in months. Honestly, I wouldn't have gone tonight if Soph hadn't insisted, claiming that I deserved to have some fun since it was my birthday and all. Liam was just being a little bitch.

I could feel the effects of the alcohol taking a toll on me and it wasn't long before I passed out myself, forgetting about Liam and his bullshit.

I woke up the next morning with the worst hangover, throwing whatever I could get my hands on at Soph, who ran away laughing after trying to tickle me awake. She was just rubbing in the fact that she never got hangovers, something she always did when I drunk myself into a coma.

"Wake up, bitch," she said too loudly. "You gotta be up and sober for Sunday dinner. Liam's gonna kill me if I let you skip out on another one."

I groaned. "Dinner's not until four."

"It's almost three-thirty, Jules."

I groaned again. "Fuck."

"Yeah, I know, it's a hard-knock life. Now get up—I don't wanna be late."

I groaned one last time before I crawled out of bed.

"That's the spirit!" Soph cheered when she saw me dragging myself to the shower. She laughed when I winced at how loud she was.

"Shut the fuck up, Soph," I grumbled. She laughed again. She must think she's a goddamn comedian today.

I got ready in record time, putting on a thick sweater and a pair of yoga pants. Soph was dressed the same way, knowing that food was going to be shoved in our faces and Nan would get offended if we pushed it away.

"Let's go eat some fucking ziti!" She shouted again while we waited for her car to warm up.

I punched her in the tit.

She laughed before pulling off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think! This is my first time posting it on here, I'll probably post the second chapter later on tonight :)


	2. Modern Family

"Did you sleep with that cute guy last night?" Soph asked.

We hadn't spoken much while she drove to Nan's house. I had actually started to doze off, and her question jostled me awake.

"What?" I asked.

"Did you sleep with that guy last night?" Soph repeated, looking over her shoulder as she changed lanes. The car she cut off honked their horn and she swore at them in Italian.

I giggled at her. "Yeah, I did."

She whooped and made cat calls at me. "How was it? Was his you-know-what big, or did he have—" she held up her pinkie, curving it over a little.

I snorted. "No, his _you-know-what_ was a decent size. It was actually kind of big. And the sex was fucking amazing."

Soph smiled. "Look at that shit-eating grin! Is that all it took to get you out of bitch-mode? Some bomb ass sex? What's this guy's number—I wanna put him on speed-dial."

I punched her tit again. “Oh, shut up. I don’t even remember half of it, I just know that it was great…and I'm kind of sore down there.”

Soph nodded sympathetically. “It’s alright, we've all been there.” She wasn’t even trying to be funny, and that’s what made it so bad. "Did you get his name? Are you gonna see him again?"

I made a face, trying to remember what his name was. "He told me but I can't remember. It was kind of weird, though—started with a _Z._ It wasn't Italian. And I don't know if I want to see him again, he started acting strange—wanting to know my last name and shit."

Soph shrugged. "Maybe he liked you and was trying not to treat you like some cooz he met in a bar."

I made a noncommittal sound, waving my hand.

“I'm glad to see you're out of your funk, though," Soph said. "What were you so down about, anyway?” I started to speak but was cut off by Soph's yelling. “If you don’t like it go around, ya dick!” Soph yelled to the car who honked at her for driving too slow. " _Cazzo stronzo!_ " She shouted as they zoomed past.

"Calm down, Soph! Christ!" I yelled at her. Liam could spout that 'good girl' bullshit to me all he wanted, but Soph was fucking vulgar. "And to answer your question before…all of that, it's—I mean—it's just another day on the calendar. Some years it's worse than others."

My voice had gone quiet but I didn't have to explain; Soph already knew I was referring to. She placed her hand on my knee, smiling sadly when I looked up. We didn't speak anymore on that subject.

I could tell we were in Bay Ridge now, getting closer to Nan's street. I'd grown up in Bay Ridge just a few blocks down from Nan, our Uncle Dominic a few blocks from her. Nan was the only one who still lived in the old neighborhood; Daddy moved us out to Staten Island into a huge house after my mother died, and my uncle moved to a nicer part of Brooklyn. Soph and I lived in Bay Ridge, but we're in a different neighborhood than the one Nan lived in. We could actually walk to Nan's house, but eh…we're lazy.

Soph was struggling to park her ridiculously large truck (I don't care if it was a gift from Liam, what does she need with a fucking Expedition?) on the street, and I kept telling her to get out and let me do it. After five minutes of pointless arguing she flung the door open, hopping out as I smiled to myself and slid over the armrest. I had to adjust the seat, but I had her truck in between my father and Liam's car within seconds. She stuck her tongue out at my smug expression, snatching her keys back.

The door to Nan's house burst open and Soph and I whipped our heads towards my aunt. She wielded a spoon covered in pasta sauce, shouting for us to come inside. She grabbed Soph's face, planting a loud kiss on her lips before she turned and did the same to me. My Aunt Renna was a little _…flamboyant_ , but it was only because she was straight from Sicily. She could barely speak English when she married Uncle Dominic, but now she was part of the family.

"It's been so long since we've seen you, Julietta," she said, smiling as she pulled us into the house. "You've gotten skinny." She pinched my hips.

If Aunt Renna wasn't so nice I would've slapped her hand away, but I knew she meant well. Nan on the other hand…

" _Madonna Mia,_ Julie, are you starving yourself?" Nan exclaimed when she saw me.

"Nice to see you, too, Nan," I said flatly. I loved Nan, I did, but the woman was always going on about my weight, which then led to the topic of grandchildren. I just turned twenty-one—I didn't want to hear about that shit.

"Open up, Julietta, you need your starches," she said, waving a roll in front of my mouth. It was looking really good and I was tempted to take a bite. "How are you supposed to give me grandchildren when you're all skin and bones? Look at Sophia, look at those hips! That girl's going to be able to push out a Payne legacy but you won't even be able to carry full term—"

"Nan!" I scolded. I started to say more, but as soon as I opened my mouth she stuffed the roll into it. I made a sound of protest before I caved, nearly swallowing it down. Nan made good bread.

I watched Liam greet Soph, placing a kiss to her cheek before she greeted our father, who did the same as Liam. Daddy loved Soph, had treated her like a second daughter long before she got together with Liam.

To anyone who asked, my dad was a businessman. He owned many of the small shops on 4th Avenue, and those he didn't he had connections to. His business partner, Luciano Smisatto, was his best friend and Soph's dad. The three of us—Soph, Liam, and I—were always thrown together growing up. Soph had always been a little unfortunate looking—tall, skinny, frizzy hair—but she was my best friend. Luke was my godfather, and my dad was Soph's, so we didn't really have a choice.

Anyway, Liam and Soph got together the summer I went down to Florida to visit my mother's side of the family. He realized she wasn't so awkward and gangly looking, and she realized he wasn't as much of a bitch as she thought.

Ha. Yeah right.

I came home to find him plowing into her against my bedroom wall.

It took a while for me to get over it, but now I like to look at the bright side; I'd always thought of Soph like a sister, now it'll just be official.

Luke was here, along with his wife, Maria. They greeted me warmly and while Maria had pulled me in a hug, my eyes slid to Stefania. My face fell as she smiled and hugged me, as well.

Stefania was technically my stepmother, but I refused to acknowledge her as such. She will always be known in this family as the cooz who had an affair with my father, but we couldn't prove that. I smiled at her, ate her nasty attempt of a cannoli for my father's sake, but I couldn't stand that bitch.

"How are you, sweetie?" She asked, a tight smile on her lips. She couldn't stand me, either. "It's been so long since I've seen you."

_Good._ "I've been well," I told her simply.

She smiled at me for a few beats longer before she turned towards my grandmother. Nan didn't like her, either, turning away when she called her name.

_Tough luck,_ I thought as I pinched a noodle from the ziti tray.

I helped Aunt Renna and Nan carry out the trays of food to the table, the rest of the family quickly shuffling around the table. Nan said grace, and it was silent as we all chewed whatever she’d made this week. We kind of had the same thing every week—pasta, bread, some kind of cold cut, and coffee—but it just varied depending on Nan's mood. I didn’t mind, though. It beat sitting alone in my apartment shoveling takeout down my throat.

“How’re you feeling?” Liam asked quietly.

I cast a quick glance to my father, who was talking to Luke, before I shrugged, reaching for the ziti tray. This was some good shit, and I didn’t want to hear whatever Liam had to say anyway.

He sighed, about to worry himself for no reason before Soph smacked his arm.

“She's fine. She was with me for most of the night, and I was able to get her here for dinner, right?” She looked around. “She's fine. Tell him you're fine, Jules.”

I shrugged again, my mouth now full. I really didn’t give a fuck if Liam was worried, he always worries. But still…

“I'm fine, Liam. Really,” I told him when I finished chewing. He relaxed, and I felt a little bit better.

Soph and Liam began to talk wedding stuff with Nan while I listened silently. I was happy for them, but it was always a little bittersweet hearing them talk about the wedding. Soph was my partner in crime, my wingwoman of sorts. After they get married, it’ll just be me.

Maybe I needed some new friends.

I saw Liam plant a quick kiss on Soph's cheek, and she giggled, thinking no one had seen them. I looked away from them, noticing that my father and Luke had left the table. I knew they were probably talking about business—even though it’s a Sunday and we don’t discuss business on Sundays—but I let it go, moving to take my plate into the kitchen. I grabbed anyone else who handed theirs to me, as well.

I wasn’t expecting to find Daddy and Luke in the kitchen, so I just smiled sheepishly when I walked past them to place the empty plates in the sink. I tried not to listen in on their conversation, but when I heard a very particular name I couldn’t help it.

“Any luck with the Maliks?” Luke asked my dad.

“I'm trying,” he answered. “The Paks just won't budge. When are they going to realize that having connections to me will raise their revenue, and essentially keep them insured as long as we remain on good terms?”

I pictured my father standing with his arms open with an incredulous look on his face. I tried not to giggle.

Luke did. It was more like a snicker, though. “It’s because you're a greedy son of a bitch and they can see right through you. Besides, Midnight is doing just fine on its own without our help.”

“Whose side are you on, Lou?” Daddy grumbled. Luke chuckled again. “I think it’s time we scheduled a sit-down with Yaser Malik.”

I walked away then, wanting to bash myself over the head with Nan's table lamp. My father had been trying to get in with the Maliks for over a month now. They were an up-and-coming family who apparently weren't so up-and-coming; in a few years they had ties in all five Burroughs, something that took decades—generations—for our family to accomplish. My father still ran the most powerful association in the city that the Paks couldn’t hold a candle to, but like Luke said, he was a greedy motherfucker. The Paks were bringing in a lot of money, and my father had the notion that he deserved to have a piece of whatever was cooking in this city.

_Greedy_.

Anyway, the Maliks were like our rivals, even though we weren't officially _at war_ with them. It was a little tense, though. They wouldn't dare try anything, but throwing their name around was still a touchy subject and might get you popped in the mouth.

And my dumbass had slept with one of them last night. And not only did I sleep with him, I gave him my whole fucking name. And my number.

_Stupid stupid stupid_

I could feel myself getting worked up and walked farther away from the kitchen before Daddy and Luke could hear me. I was so fucking stupid, I can't believe my dumbass did something like this. I was actually starting to hyperventilate.

Everyone had finished eating now, and I scanned the room for Soph. She was helping clear the table but stopped when she spotted me fanning myself, sitting in a chair in the corner.

"What's wrong with you?" She asked, staring down at me.

I looked around before standing up and grabbing her wrist, tugging her into the nearby bathroom. I locked that shit, too…just to be safe.

"You remember that guy I slept with last night?" I whispered.

She nodded. "Yeah, the hot one whose name you couldn't remember."

I snorted. "Well, I fucking remember it now!" I paused, checking again to make sure the door was locked. "He was _Zayn Malik_."

Soph's eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding me! Like, _the_ Malik? Like, Coney Island Avenue Malik?"

I nodded. "How many Maliks do you think there are in New York?" I snapped. I scratched at my forehead, pushing my hair back.

Soph blew out a breath. "You can't let your dad find out. It would be the only excuse he needed to take out every single one of them."

I nodded, and then I groaned. "I told him my name, Soph. My real name. And my phone number."

She made a face. "How close do you think he is to the boss? Maybe he's not even involved."

I shook my head. "His last name is just too similar. He's probably like his nephew, or something. My cousins are involved in the business, so he probably is, too."

Soph sighed again. "You better not let Nico find out about this," she said in reference to my father. "And don't let him know you were in Midnight, either. It's like their territory, or whatever."

I nodded, feeling my heartbeat pick up again. "Oh, God, Soph I could've been killed! What if—what if I had a mark on me? What if he was there to take me out? What if—"

"Shut up!" Soph shouted. I shushed her; she had probably caught the attention of everyone now. "If he wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. He was probably just out looking to get laid, just like you, okay? Stop with all the _what ifs_."

I nodded. I do that a lot when I'm with Soph, my level-headed friend who wasn't afraid to slap me when I needed it. "Okay. I just need to calm down. He just wanted some ass?"

She smiled. "He just wanted some ass."

I exhaled, feeling ten times better. "You leave before me, it'll look weird if we both walk out."

She cast me a glance before walking out. I counted to one hundred before I glanced around and walked out. Liam was the only one who was paying attention, playfully furrowing his eyebrows as he glanced between me and Soph. I waved my hand to let him know that I'd tell him about it later.

 

***

 

It had been a week since that night with Zayn, and I tried to forget about the whole thing. I don't really do anything during the day—I had tried out college for a little while, but it really wasn't for me—so I was just sitting around the apartment in pajamas eating junk food when my phone rang. I grew a little leery when I saw it was from an unknown number but answered it anyway.

"Hello?"

_"Hi, Jules? It's…um, it's Zayn."_

I gasped and nearly chucked the phone at the wall. I took a few deep breaths before I spoke again.

"Yeah, I remember you. We met at Midnight."

He chuckled. _"I know this may seem a bit strange, but I was wondering if you'd like to go out for lunch."_

"Why?" I asked, getting a bit defensive. "I'm just some girl you slept with—we fuck, and then we move on."

_"I just wanted to hang out. I thought you were cool—was into you a little—and wanted to meet up again."_ He paused. _"Besides…_ you _left your number."_

I palmed my face. Stupid stupid stupid…

I laughed shakily. I wasn't sure what I was so petrified about; Zayn had been nothing but nice when we hooked up, and I doubted was really one of _those_ Maliks.

I told myself that I was just being silly, shaking it all off. "Okay."

_"Okay…?"_

"Okay, I'll go out to lunch with you," I said. "But I get to choose where we eat."

_"Fine with me,"_ he said, and it sounded like he was smiling. _"I'll be round in thirty minutes."_

I gave him my address—another stupid move by me—before hanging up to change into some real clothes. My stomach was in knots, and I couldn't believe I was about to do this. Again. _Sober_.

If anyone asked about it, I had no excuse.

I was freaking out so bad I was about to call him back and call the whole thing off, but I didn't. I had been thinking about Zayn a lot since my revaluation about who he was, and that just made him more appealing. I wanted to see him again, if anything just to confirm my suspicions.

Maybe we'll go back to his apartment and have sex afterwards.

That thought alone was enough for me to jump in the shower real quick and get ready. It was that weird weather between winter and spring where it was warm some days and cold the other? I couldn't be bothered to check the weather, dressing in a pair of black jeans, white tee, and riding boots. I left my hair down and grabbed my leather jacket as an afterthought, in case it was chilly outside.

When Zayn texted to let me know he was outside I took another deep breath before locking up and meeting him outside. He was standing against the side of the car, looking just as fuckable as I remembered. He opened the door for me, and I knew there was no turning back now, hoping he wouldn't drive us both off the Brooklyn Bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a [blog](http://aboveall-fic.tumblr.com) dedicated to this fic which should answer any questions you have, or things you're confused on, including a term glossary and character references


	3. Something About Her

**Zayn POV**

I smiled at Jules when she came flying from her apartment. She'd sounded so nervous over the phone and I couldn't help but chuckle at her doe-eyed expression. I hadn't stopped thinking about her since we hooked up, and _I_ was kind of nervous myself. I felt like a fucking pansy; I don't get nervous over _anything._

I threw the cigarette on the ground, stomping it out with my foot. I held the door open, trying not to laugh at her shaky attempt of a smile. I started the car, but didn't pull off, turning to face her.

"Where did you want to go?" I asked her. She just stared blankly at me. I waved my hand in front of her face. "Hello? Jules?"

She blinked, her face flushing red. "Luciano's. Can we go to Luciano's?"

I made a face—I wasn't really welcome at Luciano's, but I said I'd let her choose. "Sure, we can go to Luke's."

I pulled away from her cramped street and headed towards the restaurant that was a few blocks away. It wasn't that cold out today, and we could've walked if we wanted to.

Jules didn't say much as we drove, just staring out the window and chewing on her lip, her leg bouncing up and down the whole time.

I cleared my throat. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, not looking at me. "I'm fine."

I sighed. I liked Jules, wanted this date to go well. She just seemed so _…scared_ of me, and I wasn't sure why.

That could be because of the nine tucked into my jeans, but she couldn't have possibly known about that.

My eyes shifted from the road to look at her when I heard her take a deep breath.

"How has your week been?" She asked.

I smiled, glad she was finally saying something. "Eh…I can't complain. Work has been a little stressful, but I'll get through it."

She nodded, smiling a little. "I don't work, so I can't really sympathize."

"Of course. Wouldn't want you to get those pretty little hands dirty."

Her eyes narrowed and the smile fell from her face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

My brows furrowed, wondering what had got her so upset. "It was just a joke, babe. Calm down."

She relaxed, but her eyes were still narrowed as she turned to look back out the window. Meanwhile, I sat there confused. We were having a conversation—or trying to, at least—and she just flipped on me. It was a bit scary to witness, actually.

"Jules, you gotta give me something to work with," I said, trying not to get frustrated. She looked back at me but didn't say anything. "I just want to talk to you."

Her lips were pursed, as if she was thinking about something, but she must have gave in because her shoulders slumped and she smiled. It was small, but it was a smile.

"I'm just a bit nervous," she whispered.

I nodded. That much was obvious.

"I meant what I said that night, about not being that forward." She turned to face me fully. "I'm really not some cooz who sleeps around a lot. I was just out celebrating my birthday, and that was only because my friend dragged me there."

"What are you usually doing on a Saturday night?" I'd been checking her out a little, and she looked like she was right in her element.

She shrugged. "I'm usually sitting around the TV eating Chinese food. I'm actually kind of boring."

I chuckled to myself; she definitely wasn't boring. "Well, I was working that night, which isn't all that exciting. You certainly kept me entertained."

"You work at Midnight?" She asked.

I made another face. "Something like that."

She didn't say anything else as we pulled up to Luke's. I usually only come here for business purposes, but the food was amazing, so it didn't bother me that she chose this place. There were plenty of shops on my block that I would've felt more comfortable at, but I said I'd let her choose, so…

I had never trusted valets and insisted on finding someplace to park. Jules agreed, stating that she hated valets, too, and didn't mind waiting. Parking on this street was a bitch, but I managed to find a spot close to the door.

The hostess' face lit up in recognition when we walked in and I looked to Jules, who swore under her breath and kept her head down.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Payne," she chirped with too much enthusiasm. "Would you like your normal table?"

I studied her face as she smiled sheepishly. "Yes, please."

We followed the hostess to the back of the restaurant to this tucked away table, completely secluded from the rest of the restaurant. I've been back here once before—on business—but I didn't think people who were… _outside of the thing_ were allowed to come back here.

I leaned into Jules as we walked to whisper into her ear. "You come here a lot? She seems to know you pretty well."

Her nose scrunched up. "Something like that."

I chuckled, deciding to leave it alone. I slid across from her in the small booth, glancing over the menu. After a few minutes I realized that Jules hadn't even opened hers.

I peeked over the top of the menu. "Already know what you want?"

She shrugged. "I get the same thing every time."

"What do you suggest, then? I can't decide between the garlic chicken and the chicken marsala."

"Go with the marsala," she said. "The garlic chicken can be a little dry sometimes."

I nodded, about to look around for someone to take our order when another girl who smiled too much was suddenly in front of us.

“Hi, Ms. Payne, would you like your usual?” she asked, pulling a pen from behind her ear to scribble on her notepad. Jules nodded, palming her face. I wondered why she looked so upset, but I shrugged it off; she had been acting weird all day.

“And you?” The waitress turned to me.

I placed my order, my eyes shifting curiously to Jules. She was now staring daggers at the waitress and I decided to just stop trying to figure her out before I busted a vessel or something.

“You're kind of weird,” I blurted.

She chuckled darkly, running a hand through her hair. “And you're kind of scary.”

I looked around, wondering where this was coming from. “How am I scary? I've been on my best behavior this whole time.”

She snorted. “Your best behavior? How old are we, five?”

I laughed, wanting a cigarette so badly. “I don’t know what to make of you, Jules Payne.”

She shrugged. “Stop trying to assume things and just ask me. I mean…I'm not _that_ weird.”

I nodded slowly. It felt like she was speaking in riddles and nothing she said made sense. I figured I'd be better off just asking her stuff straight-out. “How long have you lived in Brooklyn? I hear a bit of an accent.”

She smiled. “Born and raised. We moved out to Staten Island when I was thirteen, but I guess the accent just stuck.”

My brows rose, impressed. No, I wasn’t—she looked like a girl who came from money.

“Where are you from?” she asked, pausing to take a sip of her drink. “You're from Brooklyn, too, right?”

I nodded. "Flatbush. We moved around a bit before we settled here, though."

"Where else have you lived?"

"Pakistan," I told her a little wearily. I was happy she was finally showing interest, but disclosing that type of information always put me a little on edge.

Her eyes widened. "That's kind of neat. The farthest I've been from Brooklyn is Florida—that's it."

"Why don't you go someplace else? Travel the world or whatever?"

She looked down to the table. "I'm not allowed."

Her answer confused me, but I didn't get to respond, the waitress now bringing out our food.

"Enjoy your meal," she said, still smiling. At least I could say Luciano's had great service. "If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask." Her eye twitched before she walked away; poor girl, must've had some kind of eye problem.

I turned back to Jules to see her glaring at the girl again. "You got some beef with her, or something?" I asked. "You been eyeballing her all day."

She shook her head, lips pursed. "I don't know that bitch."

"Whoa!" I looked around, wondering where all that animosity came from.

She slammed her fork down. "Don't act like you didn't see her checking you out. She even winked at you before she left!"

"That's what that was?" I chuckled. "Jules, I'm out on a date with you. You think I'd sit here and check out some broad with no ass when I have a dime right here in front of me? That's just disrespect."

Her face softened, a light blush fanning across her cheeks as she went back to eating her food. "This is a date?"

I smiled; she looked crazy cute right now. "I'm taking you out to eat, right? You wanna go catch a movie after?" I tried to think of other date stuff. As crazy as she was, I was enjoying myself and didn't want it to end.

She shrugged. "A movie sounds nice, but I was hoping we could go back to yours."

It wasn't hard to pick up on what she was implying. "How about we go to my place, watch a movie, chill out for a bit? Sound good?"

She smiled. "Whateva's cleva."

Her accent made me smile. We made it through the rest of lunch without incident—though she did cut her eyes at the 'flirting' waitress as we left. I held the door open for her, watching as she fell back to whisper into the hostess' ear. It almost sounded like she said, _"We were never here,"_ but I shrugged it off.

We were on our way back to my place and I was explaining my tattoos to her as I drove. She'd taken a special interest in the bandana that wrapped around my arm above my elbow. 

"I always wanted to get a tattoo, but my dad would never let me," she said, her eyes running along my forearm.

I didn't say anything, silently agreeing with her dad. Tattoos didn’t seem like a good fit for her.

I turned down my street, searching for the spot right in front of the door that I knew would be open. There was a garage across the street, but I don't do garages, and always parked in front of the door. It was universally known that this was my spot, and no one argued it.

Jules stepped into my apartment before me, looking around. "Nice place."

I shrugged. "You've been here before."

She waved a hand, placing her big purse on the table by to door. "I was drunk."

I winced at how blasé she sounded. “Yeah, about that…”

She waved her hand again. “It happens. I won't hold it against you.”

I blew out a breath. “I have a rack of movies over by the TV. You can pick out whatever.”

Jules nodded, stooping down to flip through the DVDs. I went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, picking up another one for her as an afterthought. She had shrugged out of her jacket when I walked back out and was standing in front of the TV with a confused expression as she flipped through the channels.

“I brought you a water,” I said, handing the bottle towards her.

She smiled. “Thanks. Um…” She turned back towards the screen. “I don’t know how to work this.”

I chuckled, taking the remote from her and switching to the DVD screen. We both sat close to each other on the couch, and I was surprised to find my arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer. We were extremely comfortable to only have known each other for what? A week? We’ve only seen each other twice, so can it really even be considered that? Neither of us made a move to change it, though, and it made me wonder if she was feeling me, too. I was getting the vibes.

“What movie did you pick?” I asked.

She snickered, leaning her head against my chest. “You'll see.”

I was curious now, and eagerly waited for the movie to boot up. When I saw the opening credits for _The Godfather_ flash on the screen I let out a little laugh myself.

“This is what you wanna watch? I thought broads didn’t like shooting—blood, and shit.” Her choice had thrown me for a loop and I didn’t know what to make of it.

I felt her shrug. “ _The Godfather_ is actually one of my favorite movies. And I'm no broad, so I can like whatever I want.”

I laughed again at her snappy comment. Jules had a little kick to her and I could already tell that she was a complete ball-buster.

Sadly, we didn’t make it ten minutes into the movie before we were on top of each other.

“What about—what about your movie, babe?” I tried to say, not sure why I was trying to stop this.

She sunk into the couch until she was laying down, pulling me on top of her. “Fuck the movie.”

I smiled, not needing any other invitation. She toyed with the hem of my t-shirt while our lips moved in frenzy against each other. I reluctantly pulled back, lifting my shirt off and throwing it across the room. She sat up to run her hands up and down my chest, her fingers lingering over a few of the tattoos. I smirked down at her before capturing her lips with mine again.

I helped lift her shirt off before descending towards her chest, placing a few kisses to the tops of her breasts before moving lower. She squirmed when I kissed her stomach, squirming even more as I started to trail kisses along the waistband of her jeans. I snapped the button open with ease, glancing up at her to make sure this was okay. Her face was flushed and she nodded, pushing my head town towards the prize.

I didn’t waste any time, sliding down her jeans and panties before I dove right in, licking a stripe up her center. She moaned loudly and, Christ…I palmed myself over my jeans, looking for some kind of relief.

Jules grabbed a fistful of my hair, bucking her hips up into my face. She was enjoying herself and I could tell she was close, bringing a finger to rub circles around her clit.

She gasped, her back arching up from the couch as she climaxed. It was wonderful, really, and I was quick to shed the rest of my clothes while she was coming down from her high. She tried to get a grip on my arm to pull me back up and I complied, crashing our lips together before lining myself up and pushing into her.

We both groaned at the feeling, and I had to pause before I blew my load. Jules grew impatient, though, clawing at my back to get me to move. I bit my lip as I pulled out, watching my dick as I snapped back into her.

It continued on like that, the two of us finding a rhythm as we moved against each other. At this point Jules was just sputtering absolute bullshit and I was loving every bit of it, thrusting into her with all the strength I could muster up. Jules clenched around me and I looked up just in time to see her coming again. Her face as she screamed out my name was enough to tip me over the edge and I quickly pulled out, coming all over her stomach.

I didn’t want to collapse on top of her, and I struggled to hold myself up. Jules looked absolutely spent, her eyes glazed over a little as she tried to catch her breath. I couldn’t help myself, leaning down to peck her lips. She smiled crookedly, kissing me back before pushing me away so she could sit up straight. She glanced at her stomach with a questioning expression.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” I said, getting up to get a towel.

She didn’t say anything as she wiped herself off, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. I know how she felt, feeling a bit giddy myself.

_Huh?_

She collapsed back against the couch, not looking like she’d planned on moving anytime soon. “What time is it?” she hummed.

I fished for my phone in my pants pocket. “Uh…a little after three.”

She nodded. “I should get going.”

I didn’t want her to go, but I didn’t say anything. I offered to give her a ride home, and we silently gathered our clothes before leaving for Bay Ridge. We didn’t say much in the car, either, but it was the good kind of quiet, so I didn’t mind.

I pulled into a spot in front of her apartment, turning to glance over at her. She smiled at me before pushing the door open.

“Hey, Jules?” I called before she had gotten all the way out.

She turned, biting her lip. I tapped my cheek, leaning it towards her. She giggled—fucking _giggled_ —before leaning in to kiss my cheek, slamming the door shut behind her.

I waited until she had disappeared into the building before pulling out my phone, dialing up my boy, Ant.

_“’Sup, Z?”_ he asked.

“I got a name for you,” I told him, staring at where Jules was just sitting. “I need you to get me everything you can find on Julietta Payne.”


	4. The Boss' Daughter

**Jules POV**

I spent my Tuesday with Nan, helping her redecorate her living room. She really didn’t need my help; she may be over seventy, but the woman had good taste.

She had been talking my ear off about the grandson of some lady she played bingo with, going on and on about how he was a _good kid._ In this neighborhood, being a good kid usually meant they weren't connected, weren't wiseguys. I appreciated the sentiment, but I already had a man in mind. 

It had only been two days since I'd seen Zayn, and he was all I could think about. At this point I was sure he was involved with the Malik family, probably someone close to the boss himself, and I was still a little wary thinking about it all. He didn't seem to know who _I_ was, though, and that was enough to buy me a little insurance in case I wanted to back out while I was ahead.

_Which I would never want to do._

I tuned Nan out most of the time, my mind too preoccupied to focus on her, or even Zayn. Daddy called this morning and intsructed that I attend a sit-down around noon tomorrow at Luke's. My stomach had been feeling uneasy all day; Daddy didn't tell me, but I had a guess at who we were going to be meeting with. He also said he needed to talk to me afterwards if things went well.

Translation: _If nobody ended up dead._

I couldn't even begin to think of what he wanted to talk about. Well…I _could,_ but that was a conversation I didn't want to have with my father, ever. I think he would kill Zayn if he found out.

I was chewing my lip to bits when I entered the apartment, needing a drink but not wanting to get carried away—I needed to have a clear head for this sit-down. I settled for a Coke instead.

"Soph?" I called out, peering into the living room. Her car was outside so I knew she was home, but the house was completely quiet. "Soph?"

I walked past her open door, finding her passed out on top of the bed with a wedding catalogue resting on her chest. I smiled, letting her sleep. The wedding was still a good while away, but she'd been running herself crazy trying to get everything perfect. She wasn't a bridezilla (yet) but she was serious about everything being exactly the way she pictured it. Soph had been planning her wedding since she could say _I do_ , and it will be hell if something goes wrong.

I decided to follow Soph's lead and take a nap, myself. This would be my first sit-down, and whatever happened tomorrow would determine a lot of important things for years to come.

At least, that's what Daddy said.

Either way I was shitting my pants.

 

***

 

"Does this look professional?" I asked Soph, gesturing to the third dress I'd tried on that morning.

She shrugged. "You look fine. I didn't see anything wrong with the first dress you'd had on, to be honest."

I shook my head, undoing the zipper and hastily pulling this one over my head. "No, that one was too flashy; I want to look like I'm there to talk business, not suck their dicks."

Soph snickered. "Okay, whateva's cleva. You need to make a choice soon, though—Nic's car is gonna be here in half an hour to pic you up. You're already gonna be the only female there, you know they're gonna talk shit if you're late, too."

I nodded, knowing Soph had a point. I pulled out a plain maroon dress with a skinny black belt that came right above my knees, holding it up for Soph to see. "What about this?"

Her face lit up as she nodded. "Mmm-hmm. That's the one. Now go get ready before you have the whole mafiosi busting our door down."

I had already curled my hair before the whole dress fiasco, quickly pulling the pins out and letting them fall down. I kept my makeup simple, wanting to look nice and not give the wrong impression. Fuck, I was so nervous I had to redo my eyeliner three times because my hands were shaking so bad. I needed a cigarette. Or a drink. I was putting my lipstick on when my phone rang, Gabe's name popping up.

"Hello?"

"I'm outside, Miss Payne," he said simply. That was the most he usually spoke, and I cherished every bit of it.

"Okay, I'll be right out," I mumbled, still putting on lipstick.

I scrambled around the house as I slipped on my heels, asking Soph's opinion on which earrings I should wear before flying out the door.

"Say 'hi' to my cousin for me!" she shouted before I shut the door.

"Will do!" I called back.

I made it to the sleek black car in record time, wishing I'd brought a sweater in the brisk air. I bumped into Harry as I slid inside, placing my hand on his shoulder to keep me from toppling over him. He chuckled at my harried state.

"You didn't have to rush, y'know," he said, wrapping his arm around me in a hug. "Gabe always gets here a few minutes early because he knows how long you take."

I gasped, feigning hurt. "Gabriel, is this true?"

He smiled, glancing at me from the rearview, but otherwise not saying anything. I sighed, giving up for now.

Gabriel was my assigned driver, who drove my father on occasion, and was instructed not to speak to me. Actually, all my father's guys were instructed not to speak to me, but I didn't care about them too much. Gabe had been driving me around for years, ever since I was little and going to school. He was like an uncle of sorts, and a great listener, although some days I wished the conversation wasn't so one-sided.

Harry squeezed my shoulder and I turned my attention back to him. He looked nice, dressed in a fitted suit and tie. His ridiculous hair was just as it always was—fucking ridiculous—sticking up in twenty different directions. "How's my favorite girl been?"

I rolled my eyes. "You better not let Soph hear you say that. She says 'hi', by the way."

He waved his hand. "I'll send her some muffins, she'll be fine. You didn't answer my question."

I shrugged. "I'm nervous as hell. What if I screw up, say the wrong thing?"

Harry rubbed my shoulder. It was his first sit-down, too, all of it having to do with that future thing Daddy had mentioned. I felt a lot better with him here. Harry was Luciano's nephew and Daddy's godson; he was expected to attend a lot of the important stuff like this. He was my father's youngest captain, too, and even though we all knew he worked hard for it, some of the old-timers grumbled that he's where he was because of his relation to my father.

"You'll do fine," Harry said, giving me another squeeze. "You probably won't have to speak at all, just sit there and look pretty."

I groaned, pushing him off me. "That's the thing, though—I don't want to just _look pretty._ I want to be intimidating."

He chuckled. "Jules, there's no way a five-foot-two woman in a red dress is going to look intimidating to a table full of wiseguys."

I huffed, crossing my arms and turning to face the front. Gabe chuckled from the driver's seat and I stuck my tongue out like the child I was. We were at Luciano's now, and Harry was about to push open the door when I grabbed his wrist. 

"What if it's all a set-up?" I whispered shakily, my eyes wide in fear. "What if we get there and these guys don't want to listen to reason, and shoot us all down?"

Harry chuckled, gently removing my hand. "Stop thinking, Jules. If anything happens, you have plenty of guys who'd jump in front of a bullet to protect you, including me."

I sniffled as I watched him climb out the car and run around to open my door. That bastard, always knowing exactly what I needed to hear. I took a deep breath as Harry helped me out, placing a hand on the small of my back as he led us inside the restaurant. The hostess knew to wave us through to the party room in the back, flashing me a questioning glance at Harry's hand, raising her eyebrows. I knew what she was getting at, shaking my head.

Whoever we were meeting with hadn't shown up yet, and I relaxed upon seeing Luke and my father smiling at each other from across the table. I knew they were close friends, but I swear, I think they have a hard-on for each other sometimes. They both stood up when they saw us approaching.

Daddy embraced me first, kissing my cheek as he pulled me in for a hug. "You look wonderful, sweetheart."

I smiled. "Thanks, Daddy."

He clasped hands with Harry, pulling him in for a hug, too, while Luke reciprocated my dad's actions. All three of the guys were dressed in black suits with different colored button-downs. Harry and Luke had theirs buttoned all the way up with a tie, while Daddy left a few buttons undone. I noticed how his shirt and my dress were the same color, and when I commented on it he chuckled, wrapping an arm around me shoulders and pulling me in to plant a kiss to my temple.

Daddy glanced at his watch before he spoke. "It's almost noon, so I just want to go over a few things." He turned to me and Harry. "You two are not to speak. You're here to observe, and if anything out of line is said, Luke and I will handle it." His eyes shifted to me. "Julie. Here, I'm not _Daddy._ I'm _Don Nico_ , and while you're still going to be introduced as my daughter, I may say some things you don't agree with and I'm gonna need you to respect my decisions as boss."

I tried my hardest not to roll my eyes. I know he meant well but I wasn't fucking stupid. No one challenged the boss, no matter how close to him you are. That was just common sense.

I smiled at him and batted my eyelashes, letting him know that such a thing had never even crossed my mind.

When I saw my father's guys—capos, bodyguards—stand up from the table they were sitting at a few feet away I turned towards the restaurant door. In walked an older man with tan, olive skin, his hair combed back much like my father's. I gulped, my suspicions confirmed as I assumed this was the infamous Yaser Malik. He was actually kind of handsome and I was getting some serious _sugar-daddy_ vibes. I didn't focus on Yaser for long, though, my attention on the man who followed closely behind him.

Zayn was also dressed in a suit, hair pushed back, looking as fuckable as ever. I felt my heart stutter when his serious gaze flickered over to me, his eyes hardening. Shit, if looks could kill. I had to clamp my legs together because yeah, this was turning me on.

I nervously glanced over at my father, a relaxed smile on his face. It was completely fake, but looked genuine to anyone who didn't know any better.  Yaser had a few guys with him, as well, and they stood behind him while he shook my father's hand.

"How are you, Yaser?" He asked, sounding very friendly. Again, completely fake. "Glad you could make it."

Yaser nodded curtly. "I already know what you called me here for, Nicolas, and I'd like to get it over with—I have things to do today."

My father looked around, casting us all incredulous glances. "Well, let's get started. We're in the presence of a busy man."

Daddy and Yaser sat first, the rest of us—Zayn, Harry, Luke, and I—taking our seats after them. Daddy's capos and…whatever Yaser's men are stayed standing.

"I'm not trying to waste you time, so I'll get straight to the point," Daddy started. "Over the years, you've acquired a very successful club. I'd like to buy that club."

Yaser was shaking his head before my father even finished. "Midnight is not for sale."

Daddy nodded, leaning back. "What dollar amount will make it for sale?"

Yaser chuckled, but I couldn't find anything funny. "Zero. I'm not selling my club, it brings in the most money." He clasped a hand on Zayn's shoulder. "Plus, it teaches my son here responsibility. You see, he owns that club."

I tuned out whatever my father's response to that was, wind whooshing past my ears.

Zayn was Yaser Malik's _son._

I wanted to bang my head against the nearest wall because I was the stupidest motherfucker on the planet.

I'd already accepted my stupidity when I suggested we come to Luciano's for our date, a place my father and many of his associates often frequent. Anyone could have seen us, and anyone could've told my father I'd been there.

And this fuck still knew my full name.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

I started to wonder if Zayn knew all along, but one look at his face let me know that this was a surprise for him, too. His icy stare had been trained on me this whole time, and if I wasn't dead before I sure as hell was now.

My attention snapped back towards the conversation when I heard my name being thrown around.

"I would like the club much for the same purpose as you," Daddy said. "I'm trying to ease my daughter into the business, get her involved without getting her hands dirty."

Yaser's eyes shifted to me before chuckled again. "A broad? Involved in our thing? What does a female know about running a nightclub?"

I cut in before my father had a chance to whip out his nine and shoot this bastard. "Excuse me, sir, but I'm no broad. And I'm probably more educated in business management than your son could ever achieve with a four-year degree, so don't underestimate me just because I don't have a dick bunched under my dress."

"Whoa!" Daddy, Luke, and Yaser exclaimed. Harry snickered while Zayn fought back a smile.

I huffed, refusing to take it back. That shit had pissed me off, and I'll be damned if I let him talk about me like I was some dumb mob princess.

My father was fighting off a smile, as well, shaking his head. "What about this—you keep Midnight. Julie manages the club with your son, and fifty percent of the profits go to me.

"Absolutely not!" Yaser exclaimed. I fought back a sigh; that was a good offer, and his stubborn refusal was just going to make my father irritated.

I had to give my dad some credit, though—if he was getting upset I sure wasn't able to tell. "Look, Yaser," he said calmly. "I was being nice by letting you keep your club. You haven't been here long, so I'm assuming you don't know how things go. Your club is located in the busiest section of my neighborhood. Everyone else on the block kicks up, pays tribute to me, except for you. Being associated with the Payne name will bring in more people, and offer you protection. No one's gonna start shit when Nico Payne's name is written all over it." My father chuckled and I noticed that a lot of insincere chuckling goes on at these sit-downs. "I'm giving you the chance to make your own decision, but don't think I'm above _taking_ it from you. Either way, I will be getting my cut." He shrugged. "If you ask me, I'd let my Julie work there, learn the ropes, and pay up. But that's just my opinion."

Yaser's eyes narrowed at my father. "What if I say no?"

"You won't say no." My father stood, straightening out his jacket. We all stood, too. "Enzo?" My father nodded at one of his guys. "See that Mr. Malik makes it to his car safely. He does have things to do today, after all."

Enzo came to stand by Yaser, silently waiting for him to follow him towards the exit. Neither my father nor Yaser made a move to leave.

Daddy sighed. "I like you, Yaser, and I hope this business deal works out. I think we could become good friends."

My head whipped towards my father in shock; he meant that. I'd had an idea of what my father was playing at but now I wasn't so sure.

Yaser nodded, gesturing for his guys to follow him as he and Zayn left the restaurant. Enzo stood by the door to make sure they got in alright (they may be big scary mobsters but they were still caring guys) while my father’s crew just stood around waiting for instruction.

I turned towards my father, remembering my outburst from earlier. I was sweating a little bit, too. “Um, Daddy…”

He held up his finger, pulling out his phone. I waited patiently while he called whoever, even though that move was a bit rude. “Yeah, Gabe? You can come on back now…no, she’s coming with me.” His eyes flashed to me when he said that and I gulped. “Okay, see you in five.”

He clapped his hands together when he finished, giving me his full attention. “What were you saying, princess?”

“Earlier when I, uh, snapped at Mr. Malik—”

He cut me off again with his loud laugh. “It’s okay, Julie. We’ll talk about it later in my office.”

I just nodded, hanging my head. I felt two fingers tap my cheek lightly and looked up towards my father.

“Head up, Julie. I promise you're not in trouble.”

I nodded again, not finding much relief in that. I said goodbye to Harry and Luke, following my father out. He gestured for me to slide in first, closing the door behind himself.

“Which…” I started, Daddy cutting me off yet again.

“Staten Island,” he called up front to Gabe, answering my question. Daddy had an office established at many of his business, though he conducted the most business out of Luciano’s and a dry cleaner's he owned not too far from it. His home office—the one in Staten Island, the one we were headed to now—was mostly used for personal issues.

He sighed, finally letting himself relax. I took a little pride in the fact that he felt so comfortable around me that he wasn’t so tensed up all the time. I waited for him to say something, but he seemed content to just sit in silence. I hated silent car rides, they made the atmosphere seem so awkward and uncomfortable. The impending conversation didn't help to relieve my thoughts, either.  Daddy didn't care much for music, and had always been a man of few words; he liked to let his Beretta speak for him. I sucked it up, sitting on the edge of my seat as we drove through the city.

Gabe pulled into the long, winding driveway that led up to my father's ridiculously large house. Sure, I had lived here for half of my life, but even then it seemed too big for three people.

That bitch Stefania didn't count.

She greeted us when we walked inside, giving my father a kiss on the cheek. She opened her arms to wrap me in a hug, but I swerved away from her, keeping my head down as I dug through my purse for my phone. I pretended I didn't see her face fall.

_we need to talk –Z_

I sighed, typing out my response while my father had his back turned to me.

_Later –J_

"Who is that?" Daddy asked, not even turning to glance at me.

"Soph," I lied. "She was asking me how the meeting went."

"You told her you were attending a sit-down?" Daddy asked, facing me as he pushed his office door opened.

"I told her I had a very important meeting today." Another lie. I told Soph everything, and I'm sure Daddy wouldn't care whether I did or not, but I just wanted to be safe.

He nodded, waving for me to go inside first. My father's office was a decent size, a little dark due to the sole two lamps on either side of his desk. The dimness gave it a cozy feeling, though. His desk was in the center of the room, a dark wood bookshelf behind it. Two chairs were in front of the desk, and I took a seat at one of them while my father leaned against the edge of his desk.

"Do you know why I wanted you at that sit-down?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

I nodded. "You were trying to get me more involved in the business."

"Something like that." He stood from his perch to go stand beside the window, not facing me. "Julie, you never know how long you have, when you're involved in our thing. I may hold a certain position of power, but power means nothing when a gun's being held to your head."

I made a horrified face. This wasn't what I had expected us to talk about at all.

"I only have a certain number of get out of jail free cards," he continued. "My number will be up soon just like everybody else. When I die—"

"I don't want to talk about this," I said, turning my head away.

"When I die," he repeated a bit stronger, turning to face me. "All this will be yours, Julie. I want you to be my successor, and that can't happen unless I expose you to my world. That's why I wanted you there today."

"Can you do that?" I asked hesitantly.

He shrugged. "I'm Nicolas Payne—I can do whatever I want. I don't want to put some yahoo I don't trust in charge of my empire. I want my own flesh and blood sitting on top of the throne."

"What about Liam?"

Daddy shook his head. "Liam doesn't want to be apart of this life. I gave him a choice a long time ago, and I won't hold it against him. Besides, Lou would never let his daughter marry a made guy."

I nodded, my mind spinning. "Don't…do _I_ get a choice?"

My father nodded solemnly, coming to sit on his desk in front of me. He grabbed my hands. “Of course, princess. I didn’t force Liam into this, and I would never force you into this life, either.” He sighed. “Liam wasn’t the same after your mother died. He…he’s always been a good kid, he would've never been able to handle this. But you, Julie…” He chuckled, wiping his hand across his face. “Remember when you were suspended from school because you were caught gambling, and then beat down the kid who wouldn’t pay up? Sister Mary Catherine nearly had a heart attack.”

I smiled at the memory. I’d won fifty bucks that afternoon, and was on my way to making more until that dusty nun had to step in and break it up.

“You’ve always had a pair on you—and you're gonna need that, being surrounded by a bunch of men. I think you have what it takes to make it in this business, to be a good leader and make me proud after I'm dead and gone.”

I nodded. It was a lot to take in—my father wanted me to be the Don? Would you still even call it that since I'm a girl? Would I be the Donna?—but I knew I wasn’t going to turn it down. Even before today, with the sit-down and all, my father had confided in me with a lot of what the business entailed. I figured he just trusted me, I didn’t know he had a reason behind it.

“What do I need to do?” I asked, my voice surprisingly steady.

Daddy smiled a little. That motherfucker was giddy, but he’d never let it show. “It wouldn’t be just you in charge. You'd be a figurehead of sorts, but with much more power. Your underboss would do most of the dirty work—as he should—but it’d be set up so you wouldn’t have to lift a finger, just delegate.”

I shook my head. “You're just going to place me there? No work, or anything? Nothing to ensure that I _earned_ that position? Am I even going to get my button?”

He quickly looked up at me, his jaw tight. “I don’t want to hear that phrase come out of your mouth. You hear me, Julie? You're a lady—I don’t care if you're stitching up a fucking pair of pants, you're not going to be getting any kind of button if I have anything to do with it.”

I huffed, pushing away from him as I stood up. “I don’t want any special treatment just because I'm a woman. It’s already going to be hard enough for me to gain respect because of what’s between my legs, but from my own father? You think those meatheads are gonna listen to me knowing that the only reason I'm there is because Daddy’s princess kicked up enough fuss and got her way?”

My father wore a pained expression. “Do you even know what getting your button entails? What you'd have to do?”

I shrugged. I knew exactly what it meant, and I wasn’t thrilled about it, but it is what it is. Without it, I wouldn’t even be considered a true made guy—or girl, I guess—and that just doesn’t fly around here. I decided to leave it for now, but we both knew this wasn’t gonna be the end of it.

“Who's going to be my…underboss?” I asked quietly.

“I haven't decided yet, although you really have the final say,” Daddy said, and I turned back to face him.

“Who do you have in mind?” I asked, knowing by his voice that he already had someone in mind.

“That Stylini kid? The one who was with you at the sit-down today?” My father tried to be nonchalant, as if he didn’t know who Harry was. “You guys have known each other your whole life, he does good work—fucking _exceptional_ work—and you're around the same age. But that’s just my opinion.”

Okay. I could see myself working with Harry for…well, for life, really. The only way you made it out of this life was through a casket…but that was a different thought for a different day.

“Any other questions?” Daddy asked, an eyebrow raised.

I nodded slowly. “What brought this on? Like, why are you telling me all of this?”

He sighed, gesturing for me to sit back down. I stayed standing. “You know my boy Petey DeGrazzio? The Boss of that big family out in Chicago?”

I nodded. I’d went to his daughter’s baby shower a few months back, and was even invited to her wedding. We talked on occasion.

“His son placed a hit on him, tried to have him taken out. His own son…” Daddy hung his head, his face looking years older. “You're supposed to be able to trust your own flesh and blood, but when they try to have you _killed_?” He pushed away from the desk, shouting now, enraged. I remained silent. “And for what? Money? _Power_? What does it all mean when you sit back and realize you can't give your old man a hug anymore?” He looked close to tears.

“Daddy?” I took a step towards him, placing my hand on his shoulder. I’d never seen my father like this, not since…

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That shit got to me. Petey’s all tore up about this, doesn’t know whether he should brush it under the table, or…Christ.” He sniffled before he lifted his head. His eyes were a little red. “Who can you trust nowadays? If Petey’s own fucking _son_ was ready to have him killed like that—” he snapped his fingers “—who’s to say one of my own men won't get bold? I'm pretty much a moving target.”

“Hey.” I wanted to grab his face, slap some sense into him, but I settled on giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Your guys would never do such a thing. They all respect you too much.” _Feared_ him too much. “And if they did? I would make sure anyone involved would be taken care of my-fucking-self.”

Daddy chuckled, pulling me in for a hug, resting his chin on the top of my head. “I wouldn’t be doing this, Julie, if I thought it would be too much for you to handle. You certainly bust _my_ balls, and I don’t think you’ll have a problem keeping these guys in line.”

I smiled. Honestly, I thought I would be just fine. Maybe it made me sick and twisted…but I was looking forward to the future, and what these new changes would bring.

Julietta Payne, the Donna of New York. It had a nice ring to it.


	5. Questions and Answers

Before I left, my father let me know that he was going to be talking to Harry later in the week to relay the, uh, _good news._ And I guess to him it was; this was a promotion of sorts, one of the biggest kinds.

Daddy tried to get me to stay for dinner, but I declined. Stefania was a decent cook, but I'd already planned to order a nice greasy pizza and pig out for the rest of the night. I was hoping Soph was home, thinking we could have a girls' night and I could tell her _my_ good news.

I groaned loudly when we turned down my street, throwing my purse in the air and sliding down in my seat.

"Are you alright, Miss Payne?" Gabe asked, worriedly glancing at me from the rearview.

I sighed, staring out the window. "I'm fine, Gabe. A little annoyed, but fine."

The crease between his eyebrows didn't smooth out, but I paid no attention to him. Standing beside his sleek black truck was Zayn, a neutral look on his face as he eyed our car. Gabe pulled up behind him.

"Do you know this man?" He asked. "Do you need me to call Mr. Payne?"

I sighed again. "That won't be necessary. He's a friend of mine."

I heaved myself out of the car, wanting nothing more than to change out of these shoes with a slice of pizza between my teeth. I walked past him, leading the way to my apartment. I didn't check to see if he was following.

"Jules—"

I held up a hand, effectively silencing him. We made it all the way to my apartment in silence, and the first thing I did was kick my shoes off. Zayn stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do. I pulled him inside, closing the door behind him. Soph wasn't home, the quiet greeting giving it away.

"Unzip," I instructed, turning my back to him and lifting my hair away.

He made a frustrated sound, but complied. When he'd pulled the zipper of my dress down I padded towards my bedroom, shutting the door. I changed into a pair of red Minnie Mouse pajama pants and a black tank top before walking back out into the living room. Zayn raised an eyebrow at my appearance, about to comment when I raised my finger, dialing the number of my favorite pizza place.

"Is pepperoni fine with you?" I asked, waiting for the teenager who managed the phone to pick up.

He shrugged, still looking positively confused.

I placed my order, deciding to order some wings and breadsticks just for the hell of it, hanging up and tossing my phone on the coffee table. I waited a few beats, arms crossed.

"You wanted to fucking talk, so talk!" I yelled after a minute of silence.

He ran his fingers through his stiff hair, his brows furrowed. "Why did you bring me here?"

I sighed. "It's been a long day, and I'm tired."

"But…" he trailed off.

I smirked. "What, you think I'm scared of you?" I snorted. Maybe a few days ago, when I was still anonymous, but not now. "If you even place a finger on me you'd disappear before I could even call for help."

He made a face, like I'd just grown another head. "I'm not here to hurt you, Jules."

I looked around. "Then what are you here for? You want some pizza? Wait ten minutes and we'll split it, but Christ, I just want to watch _American Idol_ in peace."

He stared at me, eyes narrowed. I didn't know what his fucking problem was; I thought that little rant would at least get a smile out of him. "You knew." It wasn't a question.

I nodded.

"On Tuesday, when we…"

I nodded again. He nodded, too, scratching his chin. I could see him thinking, processing it all, and I wondered what had him so perplexed. I left him there, moving to answer my phone when the kid called to tell me my pizza was here. Those fuckers moved fast.

I reached into my purse and pulled out a twenty. "Here," I shoved it into Zayn's hand. "Go take care of that."

He looked down at his palm. "No tip?"

I scoffed. "That is his tip." He just stared at me and I shrugged. "What? My father owns the whole block, I don't have to pay for a fucking pizza pie. And they got that shit here in record time, too—I should pay for the kid's college tuition."

Zayn shook his head, walking towards the door and throwing it open. When he came back, pizza and friends in hand, I was sitting on the couch cracking open a beer. He placed the food on the coffee table, coming to sit next to me on the couch. I handed him a beer and he nodded his head as a thank you.

“So we’re really not going to talk more about this?” he asked after taking a sip.

I shrugged, staring forward. “What more is there to talk about? I'm Nicolas Payne’s daughter, you're Yaser Malik’s son. We fuck sometimes. If my father found out, he'd kill you. Did I miss anything?”

“He'd kill me?” Zayn asked, an amused tone to his voice.

I nodded, still staring forward. “Right between the eyes.”

He nodded, too. “Okay. Well, I'm glad we got that settled.”

I reached for a slice of pizza, smiling at him. We left it at that, relaxing as we watched _American Idol_ , betting on who the judges would let through to Hollywood.

“They're not going to let her through,” I argued. “They keep saying how much more she needs to grow. They’ll probably tell her to come back in a few years.”

Zayn shook his head, finishing off his second beer. “But that guy, the one with the shaggy mullet hair—”

“Keith Urban,” I supplied.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Whatever. He likes her, though. And if he lets them through, Jen usually lets them through. Harry's just an ass.”

“I like Harry Connick, Jr.!” I protested. “And look at you, calling her Jen, like youse best buddies.”

He grinned. “Ten bucks says you're wrong.”

I huffed, reaching into my wallet to grab ten dollars. “Ten bucks says I'm right!”

He chuckled, and we shook on it. The show came back from commercial and I watched intently, ready to rub it in his face when they turned the girl down.

Unfortunately for me, they let her through, and I huffed some more while Zayn wore a smug smile. I slapped the money in his hand and crossed my arms.

“What else is on? I'm getting sick of this show,” I mumbled.

Zayn laughed loudly, pulling me in to place a loud kiss to my cheek. I giggled and wiped it away. “What do you suggest we watch?” he asked, his mouth moving softly across my jaw.

I shrugged. “Wanna watch a movie? I have Netflix.”

He mumbled something I didn’t catch, his face buried in my neck.

“Zayn.”

“Hmm?”

“We’re not having sex.”

He stilled, coming back up to face me. He looked so hurt, his eyes cast down as he pouted. “Why not?”

I pointed to my pajamas. “You see these pants? They have Minnie Mouse on ‘em, and the pussy is off limits when Minnie is involved.”

He made a face. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t have to. I don’t fuck around when I'm wearing these pajamas, they just seem so innocent. I feel like I’d be soiling them.”

Zayn shook his head, still looking at me weird. I didn’t care—it was a golden rule of mine, and even though he still looked good with his button-down that was now open at the top, and his fancy suit trousers, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it to Minnie. Maybe I am weird.

I let him chose the movie, something stupid but really funny. I was settled against his chest, just like that day at his apartment, and it felt…nice. I’d never really been in a real relationship before, never saw any point in one. Would it be too soon to say I wanted one with Zayn? We’ve only seen each other like three times, and fuck, I didn’t even know what his favorite color was, and his dad and my dad kind of had this weird tension going on…maybe it would be best if we stopped now.

“Hey, Zayn?”

He had been trailing his hand up and down my arm, and my head was practically in his lap. I drew circles on the inside of his thigh.

“Yeah?”

“What's your favorite color?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Blue. Why?”

“No reason.”

We were silent for a few seconds before I asked him another. “What's your favorite movie?”

“ _Scarface_.”

“Seriously?” I sat up, leaning on my elbow to stare at him. “And you tried to shit on me for _The Godfather_?”

He chuckled. “Watch the movie, Jules.”

I laid back down, continuing on with my questionnaire. “Favorite food?”

“Chicken.”

“If you were stuck on an island—”

“What's with the twenty questions?” he asked, his eyes flashing down to me.

I shrugged, sitting up again. “I don’t know anything about you, Zayn Malik, and here you are sitting on my couch, eating my pizza and drinking my beer.”

“You led me up here,” he pointed out.

I waved my hand. “We keep having these little date things, and all we manage to do is have sex.” He smirked, waggling his eyebrows. I playfully hit him with a pillow. “We’re not having sex. But seriously—I don’t know you. You could be here to kill me and I’d be none the wiser.”

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to touch you before I dropped dead,” he countered.

“That doesn’t mean you're not dumb enough to try.”

“Okay.” Zayn sat up straighter, tucking a leg under himself as he faced me. “What do you want to know?”

I copied his position. “Um…maybe you can say three things about yourself, and then I’ll do the same?”

He nodded. “I have three sisters, I like to draw, I have a degree in literature.”

Huh. “Okay, um…I have one brother, I live with my best friend, and I can sing my ABCs backwards.”

Zayn laughed. “What? I don’t believe you.”

I smiled, starting from _Z_ and working my way down without messing up. He clapped when I finished and I bowed, blowing kisses to the crowd, giggling a little.

He sighed when we calmed down, his features turning serious. “What are we going to do about that business deal? What if my father says no?”

I frowned. “He won't say no.”

Zayn nodded slowly, staring at me in a way that made me squirm uncomfortably. “What if _I_ say no?”

My frown deepened. “Why would _you_ say no?”

He shrugged. “A lot of stuff goes on at Midnight that you don’t know about. It’s not really safe for a woman.”

I rolled my eyes at that. He was just as bad as my father with all that safety and femininity shit. I was to become the boss of the biggest crime family in New York and he was worried about me seeing some sketchy shit? What's the worst that can even happen at a nightclub?

“I'm capable of looking out for myself,” I told him. “All I’d be doing is managing with you, _as if Daddy would let me do anything else_.” I mumbled that last part too low for him to hear.

“Actually, Niall manages the club. I just own it,” Zayn said. “You'd really be managing it with him.”

I shrugged, lifting up his arm so I could snuggle back into his chest. By now the movie had gone off, and I just switched it back to regular TV. “I don’t really care. I'm just tired of sitting around the house every day.”

“Why don’t you go to school?” Zayn asked, trailing his fingers up and down my arm again.

“Eh. I went for a few years, but I didn’t really like it.”

He didn’t say anything else and we watched whatever sitcom I’d flipped to. It was actually really dark outside, and it was getting a bit late. I found myself not wanting Zayn to leave, content to just stay here.

And that confused the fuck out of me because we’ve only known each other for what, two weeks?

I looked up to Zayn, smiling when I saw that he had fallen asleep. I slid from under his arm, moving to put the pizza in the fridge and grab a soda. I was still in the kitchen when I got a text from Soph letting me know that she was spending the night at Liam's. She spent most nights at Liam's apartment, especially now that the wedding was getting closer. I kept telling her to just move in with him, but she refuses, says it’s not Catholic (as if all that other shit she does with him is). She would never admit it, but I think it’s because she feels bad about leaving me here in our apartment alone. I really didn’t mind, knowing she was gonna have to leave eventually. Of course, I was gonna miss her, but it is what it is.

When I came back out to the living room Zayn was awake, sitting up straight and running his hand through his hair.

"What time is it?" He asked sleepily.

"Um, almost eleven, I think."

He nodded, standing up to stretch. He had taken his button down off sometime during the night, just lounging in his undershirt. I bit my lip, watching it ride up a little as he raised his arms above his head. I shook my head, trying to clear my head from the Zayn fog. When I looked up to his face I found him smirking at me, and I knew I was caught red-handed. My face flushed and I turned away.

"I should get going," he sighed. He threw on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned and hanging his suit jacket over his arm.

I don't know what it was, maybe thinking about Soph leaving me had made me all mushy and feeling sorry for myself, but I was blurting it out before I could even realize what I was saying.

"You don't have to," I rushed out, looking down at my feet. "Leave, I mean. It's pretty late, you can just…stay here."

"What about your friend?" He asked.

I waved a hand. "She's staying at her fiancé's house. She probably won't be back till morning."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah…yeah, okay." He smiled, and I blew out the breath I didn't know I was holding. "I can just crash on the couch, if that's alright."

I nodded, leaving to go grab him some blankets. He was coming out of the bathroom when I came back with the blankets, and I almost dropped them, seeing him in just his undershirt and boxers. Well, they were more like boxer-briefs because I could see _everything,_ and the fact that he was sporting a semi had me more flustered than I would've preferred this late at night.

I handed the blankets off to him, hoping to hide my red face. "You sure you're fine sleeping on the couch? I mean, I don't mind…" I trailed off, wanting to say we could share my bed without sounding so suggestive.

Zayn shook his head. "Nah, it's cool. It probably wouldn't be a good idea—I don't wanna disrespect your rule." He gestured to my pajama pants and I tried to contain my watery smile.

"Okay," I said slowly, still smiling a little. "Um…goodnight?"

He chuckled. "Goodnight, Jules."

I shuffled into my room, kicking my feet in the air when I plopped on my bed. How did that T-Pain song go? Yeah, _I'm sprung._

 

***

 

"I take it your sit-down went well."

I nearly threw my cup of coffee into the air, clutching my heart at the smirking Soph who stood in the kitchen entryway.

"You know you can't sneak up on me like that, Soph!" I exclaimed, still struggling to calm myself down.

She rolled her eyes. "You'll get over it. I want to know why Zayn Malik is sleeping on our couch when the two of youse had a very important meeting yesterday." She ended with a cocked brow.

I squirmed under her gaze. I was surprised when I walked into my living room this morning to see Zayn still here; I half expected him to sneak out in the middle of the night. I was actually really glad that he hadn't. "He said he needed to talk to me."

"Uh-huh. And that involves you taking your clothes off?"

I shook my head. "No, we didn't, um…"

Soph's face morphed into one of surprise. "You didn't?"

I shook my head again, my face heating red as I pointed to my Minnie Mouse pajama pants. "I told him about the rule, and he was cool with it. Thought it was a bit silly, but yeah."

"Hmm."

"Is that a good _hmm_ , or a bad _hmm_?" I asked.

"It was a _hmm_ , what the hell more do you want from me?"

Soph's voice had started to rise, and I hurried to shush her. "Sorry, sorry! It was just a question. Was Zayn still asleep when you got here?"

She nodded. "This coffee fresh?" I waved a hand, silently telling her to go ahead. "He was out like a log. He didn't even flinch when I came in, so he's probably still asleep now."

She plopped into the chair across from me and we drank our coffee in silence. My phone went off in the other room and I left Soph to go answer it.

Zayn was awake now, probably because of my phone, scratching the back of his neck. I couldn't help the small giggle that escaped, seeing how adorably confused he was. He seemed to gain some bearings on where he was when he saw me.

"Was that your phone?" He asked, his voice thick with sleep.

I nodded. It had stopped ringing, and after quickly glancing to the coffee table and not seeing it there, I realized I had no clue where it was. "Have you seen it?"

He reached in between the couch cushions and pulled it out, handing it to me. I checked it, seeing that Harry called and making a mental note to call him back later.

"What time is it?" He asked, rubbing at his face just like he did last night.

"A little after ten. You can stay for breakfast, if you want."

He shook his head, standing up. It was a chore for me to keep my eyes focused on his face. Wait, no it wasn't—I could stare at his face all day long.  "Nah, I have a lot to do today. Besides, I don't wanna mooch off of you and eat up all your food." He flicked my cheek gently.

I giggled again, though it kind of sounded like a snort. "Oh, please—there's a pancake house down the street. All I'd have to do was call it in."

He chuckled. "Of course you do. But no, I really do have to leave."

"Don't mind me, I'm just going to my room!" Soph shouted loudly as she brushed past us.

I shook my head at her, rolling my eyes as she suggestively glanced between me and Zayn when he lifted his arms to stretch. She gave me a thumbs up, making a lewd gesture as she punched the air. My face heated up instantly, and I shooed her away. She turned to head back to her room, laughing loudly.

Zayn cast a questioning glance in her direction and I waved her off, still a little embarrassed by her actions. He went to the bathroom to get dressed and probably freshen up while I folded the sheets on the couch. I was a little sad to see him go, but I'll get over it, knowing I had Soph to keep me company, and even Harry, since I had to return his call.

Zayn came out of the bathroom with his dress pants on and shirt unbuttoned, just like he was last night. His hair wasn't as stiff and lay flat on his head, a bit of stubble on his face. I sighed dreamily; nothing could make this man look bad.

"You sure you don't want any coffee, or anything?" I asked, wanting nothing more than to screw his brains out, Minnie Mouse pants be damned.

He shook his head. "As tempting as that sounds, I can't."

I pouted and he touched my chin, lifting my head up to face him.

"No pouting," he said before leaning down to give me a kiss. It was hot and made my knees shake a little, and I was completely breathless when we pulled away. "I'll call you later, okay?"

I nodded, biting my lip. He smiled, giving me another quick peck before he disappeared through the front door. I had to damn near fan myself after that, lifting my hair off my sweaty neck.

"You guys are gonna have some bee-yootiful babies," Soph mused from the hallway and I shrieked, throwing a pillow at her.

 

***

 

I met with Harry at that pancake house about an hour after Zayn had left. He was in the neighborhood doing his weekly pickups and figured he'd stop by, asking if I wanted to go out for breakfast—or brunch, considering the late start we had. It was hard to believe the sit-down and the conversation I had with my father afterwards was the day before. I wanted to talk to Harry about what he told me, but I had to wait until my dad talked to him first.

"So…" I started, pushing a piece of pancake around in the pool of syrup. "I have a hypothetical question."

Harry nodded, urging me to go on with his mouth full. He was eating some organic omelet thing that I turned my nose up at.

"Okay, so a guy is connected, right?" I waited for him to nod before I continued. "Let's say he's next in line to the throne. He, uh, he's the boss' son, but he isn't made, doesn't have his button."

Harry frowned, swallowing his food. "That's not possible."

"That's what I thought! But he's next in line and doesn't have his button, and his father won't let him get it."

Harry shook his head, taking his bottom lip in between his thumb and index finger. "To become the boss you have to be a made guy, and to be a made guy you have to have your button. Why won't his dad let him get his button?"

I squirmed. "I don't know. It probably has to do with taking someone out. Maybe he doesn't want his dau—I mean, son to become a killer?"

Harry chuckled, sitting back. "Everyone's a killer in this life, Jules."

My stomach lurched at his words. This was all stuff that I already knew, but hearing it from someone else put it in perspective. I _had_ to get my button in order to take over the organization, which meant I _had_ to kill someone.

I pushed my plate away, suddenly losing my appetite.

"What brought this on?" Harry asked, staring at me in that way of his where it feels like he seeing right through me.

I shrugged. "I saw this documentary on HBO."

He nodded, going back to his vegan omelet shit. "You shouldn't believe everything you see on TV, you know they never have the facts straight."

I didn't say anything, thinking about how much blood I was going to have on my hands by the time this was all over and done with.


	6. Foundations

I sat in one of the comfortable boutique chairs in my fancy gown, playing a game on my phone while I waited for Soph to come out of the dressing room. We were in this nice store in Manhattan that I couldn't pronounce the name of, and I could hear Soph arguing with her mother because her dress wouldn't zip all the way up.

"It won't close, Ma, what am I gonna do?" She cried, and it wouldn't surprise me if she had tears running down her face.

"Calm down, Sophia," her mother said. "Didn't you get your period this morning? You're probably just bloating—"

"It was the ziti!" Soph wailed, and a few people turned their heads in the direction of the fitting rooms. "I knew I shouldn't have gotten that third plate—look at me, I'm a cow!"

I snickered, a few of the other bridesmaids giggling with me. There were a lot of them, too. Soph had so many female cousins, and she didn't want them to feel bad if she didn't have them in her wedding. Poor Liam, he didn't have enough friends—I mean, groomsmen—for all of them, so some of the girls would have to walk alone. I only knew a few of them, and could only remember the name of Harry's sister, Gemma. It didn't matter, anyway, since half of them were named Marie or Anna.

We all looked up when Soph stormed out of the fitting room, back in her street clothes as she threw the dress on the floor. That crazy bitch spit on it, too, and I quickly hopped up to run over to her.

I grabbed her face with both my hands. It was her first fitting since she's picked out the dress a couple months ago, and it was a little snug then. I really didn't see anything wrong with it, maybe her stomach poked out a little but that was probably because she was bloated.

"Hey," I said firmly.

She sniffled. "It-it doesn't f-fit!" She was a little hysterical and I shushed her.

"Soph, the dress fits fine. It's only the first fitting and I'm sure they can take it out—" She cut me off with another loud cry. "Jesus, okay maybe not take it out, but you can come back in a few weeks? Try it on then?"

She nodded, wearing the saddest frown on her face. I pouted, hating that she was so upset. I pulled her in for a hug, careful to keep her crying face off my dress. Being the maid of honor, my dress was a little different from the others; mine was navy blue and long while the other girls' were silver and a little shorter. She would never let herself live it down if she ruined it with runny mascara.

Soph had calmed down by the time we left, swearing to never eat another carb again. We were supposed to Luciano's for lunch, but with her new declaration I wasn't so sure.

"I'm fucking starving," Soph stated rather bluntly as we exited the boutique. Well, I guess that answers that.

I rolled my eyes, my own dress hanging over my arm as I kissed her mother and waved her goodbye. Soph was still pouting with her arms folded like a child, but she at least gave her mom a hug before we loaded our garment bags into her truck and took off towards Luke's.

"Do you think they have salads at Luke's?" Soph asked, glancing at me as she nearly ran a red light.

My heart stuttered—riding with Soph was gonna get me killed. "I don't know. I've never eaten a salad a day in my life, and I usually order that one thing from Luke's. I'm sure they have something, though."

She nodded, getting on the freeway as we headed back to Brooklyn. We were waved right in when we got to Luke's, the two of us being led to a table right in the middle of the restaurant. Given who our fathers were, we were kind of a big deal around the neighborhood. Soph didn't really care for the special treatment, but I loved it, basked in it. No one told me no, afraid of what my father would do to them if they did. It was a bit pointless, since I doubted my dad was gonna bust a cap if you said I couldn't have breadsticks with my chicken, but I didn't have to tell them that. Let me be spoiled and feared at the same time.

"So…" Soph drawled after the waiter placed down our drinks. "Get me caught up in the mob world. I feel so out of the loop."

I nodded, taking a sip of my Coke. "Well, you know about Yaser taking the deal…"

Last week, Yaser called my father to let him know that he was going to take him up on that offer after all. No one was really all that surprised, but it was still nice to hear. Zayn called me shortly after to tell me, sounding unenthused as he greeted his new business partner (me). I was excited; having never worked a day in my life, I looked forward to managing one of the biggest nightclubs in the city.

Soph nodded, making a gesture for me to go on.

"I'm supposed to go in around noon on Monday for like, training or something, but yeah. I have a job now!" I beamed at her.

She smiled warmly, relaxing a little. She would never say it, but I knew Soph was worried about how I'd support myself after she moved out. "That's good. What else?"

"Daddy talked to Harry, told him what he told me."

"Have you spoken to him recently?" Soph asked. "Everyone thought he was Nic's second—how does he feel about being under you?"

I giggled and Soph scoffed once she realized what she said, throwing her straw wrapper at me.

I shrugged when I'd calmed down. "I don't know. We're all supposed to meet up sometime next week—me and Harry, Daddy and Luke—and discuss this whole thing. Apparently there's a lot that goes into it, and Daddy wants to set everything up so the pieces can just fall into place when the time comes."

"Why is Nic so hell-bent on setting this up now?"

I paused, smiling at the waiter when he handed us our food. "Some shit happened out in Chicago. You know Petey?" Soph nodded. I looked around before I continued, leaning in close and lowering my voice. "His son tried to take him out."

Soph gasped. "Really? But I thought they were like this," she twisted her two fingers together.

"Me too! My dad thinks Petey's son got a little power-hungry, and now he's paranoid that one of his guys is gonna do the same thing to him."

Soph leaned back in her seat, her cheeks puffing out as she blew out a breath. "Wow, okay. Let's talk about something else."

I nodded grimly. My father was invincible in my eyes, and seeing him so vulnerable lately just felt…wrong.

"How are things with you and Zayn?" Soph asked, suggestively cocking a brow. "Youse still messing around?"

I looked down at my plate, trying—and failing—to contain my smile. "They're good. We haven't seen each other since he stayed over, but we text each other all the time."

Soph squealed, reaching over to pinch my cheek. "Look at you! You're like a little teenager!"

"Ugh, I know!" I hid my face in my hands, still smiling so wide.

"What exactly is going on between you two? Because Nic would flip shit if he found out you two are dating—'

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it _dating—_ "

"—and you really can't go beyond fooling around, so…" She paused, giving me the sad eyes. "Why are you getting so attached?"

I frowned. "I don't know. He's not just some big, dumb wiseguy who still lives in the 1950s. Maybe the Paks do things differently, but he's actually really sweet. I know it's a little risky, but I'm willing to take it? Ugh! I don't know…I like him."

"Well," Soph started, slurping up the last of her drink. " _I'm_ rooting for you guys."

 

***

 

Stepping into Midnight during the daytime wasn't as exciting as I thought it would be. People were still in there, drinking at the bar even though it was only one in the afternoon, but it really wasn't anything special. The lights were on, and that distinct smell of sweaty balls was gone, but seeing it during the day was rather anticlimactic.

"Jules!" I looked to the bar where I saw Niall waving me over, placing down the glass he was wiping and smiling widely.

I smiled back. "Hey, Niall!"

"What're you doing here?" He asked, his boyish Irish accent sounding ten times thicker. He had a radio out on the counter, but I didn’t recognize whatever song was streaming through. "It's Monday, and you're like, twelve hours early."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Is that any way to talk to your new co-manager?"

He looked surprised. "Really? You're gonna help me run this place?"

I nodded, smiling to myself. "Yup. Didn't Zayn tell you?"

Niall shook his head, getting back to the glasses he was cleaning. "Nah. We don't really see much of Zayn, he usually just stays holed up in his office all day."

Huh. "Do you mind if I…" I pointed to the office door.

Niall made a face. "Eh, I guess."

His behavior confused me, and I wondered what exactly went on here at Midnight. Were these guys _scared_ of Zayn, or did they just never see him? Niall seemed so apprehensive about me going back there, and even looked a little concerned as he watched me walk away. Whatever. I planned to play a big part in this club and I'll be damned if they're too scared to tell me when some shit is about to go down.

Zayn's office was down this dark hall tucked in a corner away from everything else. I was a little nervous walking down it, wishing I had a pocketknife or something. At the end of the hall was a door that probably led outside. The door to Zayn's office—again, assuming—was on the right, and I knocked, chewing my lip as I waited.

There was a long pause, and if it wasn't for the muffled voices and shuffling around I would've assumed no one was in there. I raised my hand, about to knock again when I heard someone holler, “Who is it?”

“Um, it’s Jules,” I called back, feeling ridiculous.

More shuffling and muffled voices before the door flew open. It wasn’t Zayn who opened the door, but another Asian guy who looked a little like him. I peeked inside and saw Zayn leaning against his desk, commanding so much power I actually wanted to jump him. (We were gonna have to have a talk and sort some things out because every time I see this man I want him to take me against a wall, and if _I_ was to become the boss of anything, I had to get my hormones in check. Seriously.)

He smiled, waving me in. There was another guy standing by the bookshelf pushed against the right side of the room, and he smiled at me, too. This felt like the start of a bad porno and I was tempted to turn around and come back after the other two guys had left, but the one who’d opened the door was standing right behind me, blocking the exit. Strangely enough, I wasn’t even scared, just finding it all a bit uncomfortable.

I looked to Zayn to see a small frown on his lips, his eyes flashing between the two men. After waiting a few beats for him to say something, I cleared my throat, urging him along.

He sighed. “You here for your training?”

I nodded, rolling my eyes because he already knew this. “I'm not really sure how much training goes into co-managing, but whateva’s cleva.”

The guy by the bookshelf chuckled, and my head whipped to him. “You’re a Brooklyn chick, aren't you?”

I squared my shoulders, raising my head defiantly. “Maybe. What's it to you?”

His eyes widened and he half-heartedly raised his hands. “It was just a question, babe. I noticed the accent, that’s all.”

I scoffed, turning away from him. These guys were giving me the vibes, and I was itching for them to leave so Zayn could show me around. By the look on Zayn's face, I could tell he was thinking the same thing.

“Don’t you two _bevkoofs_ have somewhere to be?” he asked, cocking a brow.

The one by the bookshelf shrugged, smirking a little. "Nah, not really. Besides, aren't you going to introduce us?"

Zayn rolled his eyes, pushing himself off his desk. He pointed to the one by the bookshelf, the one doing all the talking. "That's Danny," he pointed to the guy behind me, "and that's Ant. They're my cousins, and they're leaving."

Danny and Ant—well, mostly just Danny because I still couldn't see Ant—rolled their eyes, shuffling towards the door. Zayn saw them out, muttering something under his breath before he shut the door. He spoke it in the same language he had earlier, so I wasn't able to make it out. Once they were gone he turned around with a smile on his face.

"Hi," he said, and he couldn't have looked more adorable.

I giggled. "Hi. Are you gonna show me around this place, or am I gonna have to get my new best friend, Niall, to do it?"

He chuckled, opening the door and gesturing for me to go first. "It's really not much to this place. That door leads outside," he waved his hand towards that door at the end of the hall, confirming my suspicions. "Just be careful going out there, sometimes there's like bums and shit hanging around."

I nodded, following him back out to the main floor. He pointed out the DJ station, along with the bar and VIP section. Like he said, there really wasn't much to it and after a few minutes he was leading me over to Niall.

"I'll skip all the introductions since you two seem to know each other pretty well," Zayn said. Niall winked at me, and I giggled in response. "You'll probably be working with Niall more than you are me, so I'll leave you with him."

Niall still had his radio playing and I heard a familiar song flowing from the speakers.

"Is that Justin Bieber's new album?" I asked, feeling myself get excited as I fought not to sing along.

Niall smiled. "Yeah! You like the Biebs?"

I made this weird sound that was a cross between a scoff and a snort. "I love him!" I said, and I knew that Niall and I were gonna get along just fine.

 

***

 

I sat in my father's office, picking the polish off my nails while I waited for Harry and Luke to show up. At first we were all gonna go out to eat to discuss what would happen in the event of my father's death—God forbid; I stopped picking my nails to do a discreet sign of the cross—but we were always going out and eating somewhere, so we just decided to stay home. Stefania was preparing a meal, but I wasn't gonna eat anything that bitch was cooking.

Two light taps grabbed my attention and my father ordered whoever it was to come in. Luke walked in, Harry following closely behind him, and we all greeted each other before taking our seats. Daddy sat behind his desk, Luke leaning on the wall next to him while Harry and I sat in the two chairs facing him.

Daddy folded his hands together. "You two are probably two of the most important people in my life." He opened his arm towards me. "My daughter—" he gestured to Harry "—and my godson. You all may think I'm crazy, but I feel like my time will be up soon. And if I die, I want to be sure that my empire is left in good care."

I wanted to tell him that leaving the business in the care of two giggling twenty-something-year-olds wasn't the best of ideas, but my father had a flair for the dramatics and I didn't want to ruin his moment.

"There are probably a few who won't agree with my decision, but with some spring cleaning I'm sure that won't be an issue anymore." He smiled a cold smile and I shivered. "I don't want you two blabbing to the whole neighborhood about this, alright? I don't know who I can trust; the wrong person may hear about it and—" he slid his thumb across his throat. "Harry, you'll be the one carrying things out—anyone got a problem, they come to you. You keep the capos in line, may sure those fuckers don't disrespect my daughter, _capisce_?" He turned to me. "Julie, you'll be in charge of _everyone,_ and that's not something you can take lightly. This thing of ours, it's serious, and even though the boss doesn't really do much—do I do anything?" Daddy had turned to Luke, who shrugged his shoulders. "Life has been boring—good, I can't complain…but it sure as hell isn't like the good ol' days." He turned back to me, finished with his trip down memory lane with his boyfriend. "Anyways, you'll get a cut of what everyone makes, delegate—keep everyone happy, which is really just dealing with a bunch of bullshit."

Harry and I nodded along, my friend looking close to pulling out a pad and taking notes. Some of this was stuff I already knew, and I half paid attention while he finished the rest of his little speech. Daddy also liked to hear himself talk, and he could do it all day long if you let him.

Stefania knocked to let us all know that dinner was ready, and Luke and Harry left to go fill in around the table. Daddy stopped me on my way out, gently placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Julie," he started and I turned to face him. "I think it's time you settled down."

I opened my mouth to protest, surprised that this was coming from him, but he held up his hand.

"Let me finish. I'm not saying I want you to get married. Fuck, if it was up to me I'd keep you locked away with a chain and a cowbell tied around your cooch. But what I mean is, I want you to get some sense of order. Just a few weeks ago you were out piss-faced drunk." He raised a brow and I knew my bitchass brother told him about my birthday weekend. "You need a front, Julie. Go back to school, open up a nail salon, or whatever-the-fuck, I don't care. It's just…when you take over, the Feds are gonna start poking around, wondering where a girl like you got all this money from."

"Didn't we just gain half of Midnight?" I asked.

My father shook his head. "Midnight is the Paks territory. They'll sell you out in a second."

I thought of Zayn, wondering if he'd have my back. I shook my head, shaking it off; I'd been spending too much time around Daddy, his paranoia rubbing off on me.

"I'll…see what I can do," I said slowly. "But Daddy, I don't think a nail salon is gonna bring in that much business where it'll ease suspicions."

He nodded. "I'm trying to look out for you, Julie. Aside from that stunt a few weeks ago, you really don't get out much, and with Sophia moving out soon I'm worried that you'll be all alone. I just want to see my babygirl happy." He smiled, pinching my cheek between his knuckles.

I smiled halfheartedly. "I'm glad you're concerned but really, Daddy, I can take care of myself."

He nodded slowly, and I knew how hard this was for him. He wants me to become this great successor, but in his eyes I'm still a little girl. Sometimes, _I_ still felt like that little girl, but my father's suspicions about his death were just so unsettling. What if I was gonna fill this boss position sooner than I had expected? Was I even ready?

_Hell no_ , but as many things in this business went, I didn't really have a choice.


	7. Behind Closed Doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gore tw and slur tw. It's nothing too graphic, but I wanted to warn you all still

I uselessly flitted around Midnight, unsure of what to do with myself. I'd been working here for two weeks now and I'd come to the conclusion that it didn't take much effort managing a nightclub, especially since Niall pretty much had everything under control himself…there just wasn't anything for me to do.

I usually spent my nights at the bar, talking a hole in Niall's head while he served people and cleaned glasses. He'd been teaching me how to mix up a few drinks because I would whine about how bored I was, and he probably just did it to shut me up, but I didn't care. I got my drinks for free and now I didn't have to bother him every time I wanted a martini.

Even though I'd started working here that Monday, I didn't start coming in at nights until that Friday, since it was one of their busier nights. I only come in late on Fridays and Saturdays, and even though those were busy days, there wasn't enough going on to keep me entertained. Maybe I could talk to Zayn about getting some celebrity appearances, maybe even some live acts. The club was actually pretty big, and it had a stage. It would definitely bring in more people (which meant more money in mine and my father's pocket, but that's beside the point). If I'm going to co-manage this club, I'm gonna be the best damned co-manger this place has ever seen.

"What's up, Short-stuff?"

I whipped around, rolling my eyes when I saw Anthony standing behind me. I'd grown closer to Zayn's cousins in the two weeks I'd been here, though I liked Ant a little bit more. He was sleazy and disgusting and fucking hilarious, and eased some of the tedium of sitting at the bar by myself every night.

I stuck my tongue out at him. "What do you want, Ant? I'm trying to work here."

He chuckled. "I can't come check on my baby cousin? You looked lonely out here without your entourage."

I rolled my eyes, smiling this time. Within the second day of me working here Ant had picked up on whatever it was between Zayn and I. _I_ didn't even know what was going on between Zayn and I, but Ant busted my balls about it every chance he could, calling me his 'new baby cousin' and joking that we were gonna be together forever. It wasn't just me—Zayn got it just as bad, maybe worse since they were related. It would always end with him getting thrown out of Zayn's office, Ant doubling over with laughter while a red-faced Zayn slammed the door shut on him. Ant could be such an asshole sometimes.

I shrugged. "A few of them are still here," I said, glancing at the two soldati intimidatingly standing in a corner, watching around to make sure nothing popped off. "I don't really know them, though. I told all my friends not to come."

The first weekend I worked late all my father's guys—Harry, Luke, a few capos I were kind of close to—came down to show their support. They all got sloppy drunk and had a good time, but I knew the real reason they had all shown up like that. They were marking their territory, letting the whole neighborhood know that Midnight belonged to them now.

"Why did you tell them not to come?" Ant asked, getting comfortable on the stool next to me. "You _guineas_ sure do know how to party."

I stared at him with my mouth open; I couldn't believe he just said that. If it was any other person—if Ant had said that to the wrong guy on the wrong day he would've ended up with a bullet up his ass. He was lucky it was me, as I couldn't do anything besides let out a surprise little gasp.

I did smack him upside the head, though. "Anthony!"

"Oh, calm down, you know I didn't mean anything by it."

I still couldn't close my mouth, shaking my head at him. Yeah, Ant was _definitely_ an asshole.

"God, is there any reason you came over here, other than to harass and insult me?" I asked, wishing anyone else was here to keep me company so this idiot could leave me alone.

He laughed. "Nah, I just like getting you all worked up."

I scoffed, shoving him off his stool. "Ya fucking ball-buster!"

He blew me a kiss as he walked away, still laughing, and I pretended to swat it down and stomp on it. He was probably off to go fuck with Zayn and I said good riddance.

I was instantly bored again and turned to Niall, but he was serving a customer, the bar suddenly crowded. I frowned glancing towards the two guys from my father's crew. I waved at them, but, as expected, they continued to stare stoically into the distance. I kind of knew the younger-looking one—Gianno, I think? He's spoken to me once and I thought he was adorable, but he's really young. I hated seeing the new guys who came into this thing of ours, so eager to make a name for themselves and move up in rank. They were so young— _babies_ —most of them not even out of high school. My father was fourteen when he first started getting involved, but he knew what he was doing, having been groomed by his godfather since birth. These kids today are just chasing after some dream after seeing _Goodfellas_ too many times, most of them ending up dead before they even got their button.

I sighed. I decided to go search for Zayn, grabbing my weak vodka and cranberry (Niall, that bastard) and heading towards his office.

I was so excited to take this job because I thought I'd be able to spend time with Zayn without having to worry about getting caught, but I barely saw him. I now understood everyone around here's opinion about him, and they weren't really afraid, they were just curious. He rarely left his office and was kind of a mystery to his employees. I would slink back there occasionally, but always felt bad because he looked so hard at work and I hated to interrupt him. He said he didn't mind, that my little visits gave him something to look forward to and would brighten his nights. That fucker could be real cute when he wanted to. 

Zayn wasn't in his office tonight, but instead out on the floor in an intense argument with another Asian-looking guy. The other guy looked about to piss his pants and Zayn's eyes were cold and hard. I hardly even recognized him and stopped in my tracks, pressing myself against a wall to observe from afar.

I couldn't hear them over the roar of the club and tried to read their lips, but I don't think they were speaking English. Ant had joined them, Danny over there along with some other guy I met a few days ago named Zaki. The man was pleading to them, but they weren't having any of it, and my stomach lurched when Zayn jerked his head and Zaki and Danny started to drag the man down the same hallway his office was on. Zayn looked around and I held my breath, hoping he wouldn't see me. He didn't, following his crew down the hall.

I faced forward, my heart racing as I considered what I was about to do next and how incredibly stupid it was. (That's the thing about stupidity, like, you _know_ it's a bad idea but you still want to go through with it.) For the first time in my life I wished I was strapped, knowing I would need some form of protection if I was to follow after Zayn.

I remember when Daddy gave me that gun before I left his office the day we spoke with Harry and Luke. I almost threw up when he shoved it into my hands, but he was insistent on me keeping it, saying I needed to have it with me at all times. I knew how to use it, I have ever since I was seven, but it was still a _gun._ Despite how surprisingly lightweight it was it felt like it was always weighing me down, and I always kept it hidden in the bottom of my purse.

That's where it was now—in my purse, which was locked in the safe behind the bar. I blew out a breath, pulling up my bad bitch panties, knowing that if I was to feed my nosiness I was gonna have to suck it up and follow after them.

I walked as quietly as I could down the long hallway, cursing the loud _click-clack_ of my heels. I hooked my fingers in the straps and flung them off, hoping they'd still be there when I got back (this is Brooklyn after all). I pressed my ear against Zayn's office door, but was met with silence. I tentatively walked towards the door at the end of the hall. I'd never been through that door, and I was scared as all hell at what might've been behind it. I took a deep breath, pushing it open.

As I'd assumed, it led outside to the dumpsters. But the only thing out there _was_ the dumpsters—no Zayn, no bloodied up man begging for his life to be spared. I stared at the empty alley confused, wondering where the fuck they had gone. I was about to go back into the club, figuring this was a sign for me to stop getting my nosy ass into trouble when I heard voices coming from somewhere. I stepped out further into the alley, searching around for where it was coming from. When I turned to face the door I came out of I saw another door, cracked open a bit. I leaned closer and the voices got louder, and I steeled myself as I pulled the door open just wide enough to squeeze through.

I was met with a dark stairwell and gulped before I descended. I was glad I left my heels inside since they definitely would've given me away. At the end of the stairwell were two doorways on the left and right, but only one of them had an actual door, which was closed shut. I peered into open doorway and tried not to gasp at what I saw.

Ant, Danny, and Zaki were standing by the door, partially blocking my view. Zayn was a few feet away from them, huddled over the begging man from inside the club, who was tied to a chair. He was beaten bad and I would've thought he was dead if he hadn't been moaning in pain. He glanced in my direction, muttering something to Zayn, still not speaking English. I didn't hear what he said, and I doubt Ant, Danny, or Zaki did, but I heard the loud laugh he pushed out. My stomach knotted, and I got the feeling that he'd just said something about me. Zayn chuckled, but it was dry and humorless, his eyes crazed as he pulled out a pocketknife from his trouser pocket and stab it in the man's arm, dragging it down from his shoulder to his elbow. The man's laughter quickly turned into loud, horrifying screams while Zayn's grew, nearly hysterical and I blanched watching it. The man was squirming in the chair so hard that I was sure he was going to tip it over, but Zayn steadied him. He was still laughing, twirling the bloody knife in his hand while he bent low to mutter something into the man's ear. This time the man spit on him and Zayn smiled, but it was twisted and sick, digging his knife into the man's stomach and cutting it open. I wanted to turn away, the sight of the man's intestines spilling out along with all that blood making me gag, but I couldn't, my eyes glued to the scene in front of me. And the _smell_ …ugh, I was actually going to throw up.

I was sure the man was dead now, as he'd stop moving and screaming. Still, just to be sure, Zayn pulled out his gun and shot him once between the eyes, and Ant, Danny, and Zaki all did the same. I knew the significance of that—it guaranteed their silence. Even though Zayn had done all the damage, they'd all shot him with their own guns—all of their hands were dirty. If Zayn went down, they all went down with him.

Zayn turned around to face his guys. He looked right in my direction, and I had a feeling that he knew I was there all along. We locked eyes, mine wide and fearful, his black and cold. I was shaking terribly and I wondered if he could tell. I just watched a man get gutted and shot and I had to suppress the bile rising up my throat.

"Clean this shit up," Zayn told his guys, back to speaking English. He held my gaze for a second longer before he turned away to monitor them.

I didn't even have time to process what I'd just seen when a hand clamped down over my mouth.

"Please don't scream," a somewhat gentle voice whispered. "I'm just gonna take you back up to the club, okay?"

I nodded, close to tears and fearing for my life. Despite his soothing voice I still didn't know who this guy was, and I just wanted to grab my shit and go home before _I_ ended up dead. I'd had enough mob experience for one night.

The stranger turned me around to face him and I exhaled when I saw that it was Gianno. I wanted to knock him one for scaring like that, but I was shaking so bad he had to practically carry me up the stairs.

"What were you doing down there?" He asked. He didn't sound angry, just a little exasperated. "Cel and I were looking all over wondering where you'd went."

I didn't answer him, pushing away to stop by the trashcans and empty the contents of my stomach. Gianno awkwardly patted my back, unsure of what to do.

After a minute of retching I stood up straight, wiping off my mouth with the back of my hand. Gianno was still waiting for me, his nose wrinkled a little.

"Do you want me to take you home?" He asked, his eyes flashing to the puddle of vomit.

I nodded, still too shaken up to speak. He held the back door open for me, motioning for me to go ahead of him.

The club was still in full swing, oblivious to the fact that a man was just cut apart right under their dancing feet. I suddenly understood my father's obsession with this place. It was because of the cellar, or whatever that room was— _hell_ —a place where he could carry out, uh…interrogations with complete discretion. We didn't have a place like this in our possession. We had this public storage shed that we paid off the owner to use, no questions asked, but it was very obvious what was going on in there. That cellar was close to soundproof, and was just a hop, skip, and a jump away from the heart of our business. My father probably didn't care jackshit about the club's revenue or whatever bullshit he'd sputtered to Yaser, but I bet you he knew about that cellar.

Gianno held a light grip on my arm as he pushed through the crowds of sweaty bodies. He made me wait by the entrance while he brought his car around, getting out to open the back door for me. I couldn't tell if he was kissing up because I was the boss' daughter and he wanted me to put the good word in, or if he was genuinely a nice guy. Either way I was grateful for it.

I rattled off my address, feeding him directions as he drove me back to my apartment. I sighed, grabbing my heels and purse when we pulled up behind Soph's truck.

"Uh…" Gianno started. I had my hand on the doorknob, freezing my movements. "I know you're still shaken up—I don't know what you saw, but it was probably real fucked up—but you should try and get your rest? I promise you'll feel better in the morning and may even forget it all ever happened."

He'd said that last bit rather forcefully, and I knew what he was implying, suggesting I keep my shut. Did he really think I was gonna rat them out, as long as I'd been in this business? Please, as if.

I nodded, though, pushing the door open and hopping out. I stepped into my apartment to find Soph passed out on the couch, probably up late waiting for me. I walked right past her and straight to my room, not even bothering to take my dress off before I crawled into the bed, big fat tears spilling down my face. I couldn't even make it through an execution, nearly passing out, and my father expected me to run a business where it was kill or be killed? I found myself doubting my decision to agree to this. How many of those would I have to witness? How many would I have to carry out _myself_? Behind the glitz and glamor of a life filled fancy titles and piles of money was the darkness of an organization that took people out for miscounting a stack of hundreds. I couldn't picture myself being so grotesque, but I _wanted_ it. I wanted the respect, the money, the power—I wanted it all but wasn't ready to do what it took to get that far. Maybe this life wasn't for me, and I couldn't figure out why that revelation made me so sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted an alternate of this chapter in Zayn's POV as a separate fic in the series. Check it out if you wanna. Also check out the [blog](http://aboveall-fic.tumblr.com) dedicated to this fic for a glossary or if you have any queations!


	8. Doubts

**Zayn POV**

Jules didn't come into work on Monday, or the Tuesday after. I didn't blame her—if I was in her position I'd stay home, too—but I was a little concerned. She puts up this tough act, talks a lot of shit, but she was just as scared the next guy. It was probably just taking her a little while to recover.

In a way, I was kind of glad that she wasn't here. I wanted to see her, but all that shit back in the cellar, when I knew she was there without even looking, that didn't sit right with me. I'm perceptive—I people-watch, I observe. It's what I do best. Being able to tell when the air shifts in the room is something I've trained myself to do. But it felt so _strange_ with Jules, as if I was being pulled towards her, and it was fucking me because this isn't some sappy Nicholas Sparks novel, this is fucking Brooklyn. I try to keep as many emotionless ties as possible so that leaves less ways to mess with me. Omar? I didn't give a fuck about him. If it had happened to Ant or Danny…yeah, I'd be a little upset, but you move on. You get even, seek out the fucks who did it, and then grieve later.

But I digress.

Jules and I were getting closer each day, and I was at war with myself over whether I should truly make her apart of my life. She was put in enough dangerous positions being who her father was, she didn't need any more potential threats.

By Wednesday, the third day in a row that Jules hadn't shown up to work, the whole club seemed to be in a mood. Niall kept casting me these accusing looks while he cleaned the glasses, as if it was _my_ fault she wasn't here. And I guess it was, but that didn't give him the right to act like he knew what was going on.

"Keep eyeballing me like that, Niall, and you'll find yourself out of a job," I said as I walked past him to my office.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he went back to wiping. "You got a visitor," he said gruffly, and I almost couldn't understand him through his accent.

"What?" I stopped in my tracks, not liking the tone of his voice.

He rolled his eyes again. "Jesus, Zayn, just go check your fucking office."

I chuckled dryly, waving a finger at him. Anyone else, literally if anyone else had talked to me like that they would've gotten one right in the mouth. He's lucky I got a soft spot for his Irish ass or else he would've been laid out on this nice tiled floor.

I stopped at my office door, pulling my nine from where it was tucked into my waistband to check the mag and cock it back. Niall's statement was too vague, and there could be anything waiting for me in this office.

I slowly pushed the door open, my gun hidden behind my back as I poked my head in first. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't what I found.

Nicolas Payne was standing in the middle of my office, leaning on my desk and fixing his cuff links while I glared at him in confusion. He was alone—no goons, no pack of muscle men—and I was tempted to put my gun back away. But I didn't know why he was here, and that put me on edge, so I decided to keep it tucked inside my jacket.

"Come in," he said, as if this was his place.

I stepped all the way in, shutting the door behind me. I stayed rooted in my spot, though, not trusting him enough to come any closer. I watched him pick up the book I had on my desk, turning it over before placing it back down.

"I'm sure you can guess why I'm here," Nicolas started, glancing up at me.

"To what do I owe the honor?" I replied dryly.

He raised his brows in amusement. "That little… _issue_ you took care of on Saturday?"

I kept my face neutral. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He laughed loudly. "Of course you don't. Just remember that my daughter is working here now, so you can't just have any ol' schmuck coming in and out of here. You got someone giving you trouble? You take them away from here, and away from my daughter. She doesn't need to get dragged into your shit."

I wanted to roll my eyes. Who did Nicolas Payne think he was, barging into my office and ordering me to change the way I did things? Does he think that just because he's got a scary name and a shiny gun that I have to listen to him. Fuck him.

"Is that all you came here for?" I said, hiding the annoyance I felt; that was five minutes of my time that I'd never get back. "I have a business to run."

He chuckled, waving a finger at me as he stood from the desk. "You Maliks, never seem to have enough time for anything."

I scoffed, opening the door and hoping he'd take the hint.

He chuckled again, almost through the door when he stopped and turned around. "Oh, and whatever you've got going on with my daughter stops now. For your sake, I hope I won't have to tell you again."

He cast me a menacing glance before he finally left, and I slammed the door shut behind him. Honestly, it didn't even surprise me that Nicolas knew about the thing with Omar. One of his lapdogs probably ratted us out. I wasn't sure how he knew about this thing between Jules and I, but it was gonna take a lot more than a look to get me to stay away from her.

 

**Jules POV**

I ignored the third call that I had gotten from Zayn today, turning the volume on the TV up and stuffing another brownie in my mouth. I knew I was being childish and that I'd have to face him eventually, especially since I kind of worked for him, but I just didn't want to. After three days, I wasn't even sure if it was about what happened in the cellar anymore. That was just a little bump that got me thinking about what it would be like to take over when Daddy died, and I couldn't stop imaging myself in his position. Would I ever get so hungry for money that I'd kill a man over it? Would I ever get so greedy over _anything_ enough to cause me to _kill_? No matter how much I despised it, how much the thought repulsed me and made my stomach turn, I knew that my initiation into the mob wouldn't be complete unless I'd made my bones. There was no way around it, and that thought alone had kept me holed up in my room for days.

I looked around the empty apartment, wishing Soph was here so I could unload some of this on her. She was out with Liam finalizing some wedding stuff (which was actually only a little over a month away), and what I had to say couldn't be said over the phone. Obviously, I wouldn't tell her the specifics, but her advice was always helpful and welcome. I was mostly lonely, though, not liking the silence Soph's absence left behind, especially since that bitch is always so loud.

I ignored Zayn's fourth call, choosing to dial up Harry's number instead. That guy's death was sitting heavy on my chest because I feel like he died _because_ of me. I knew I could talk to Harry about it without him passing judgement, or even worse—telling my father.

_"What's up, Jules?"_ He said upon answering.

"Whatcha up to?" I asked, because Harry was always busy and I hated to pull him from something important.

_"Um…just running some errands,"_ he said tightly, and I knew that these were errands of the illegal variety.

Which meant that he was, in fact, busy.

"Oh," I said, hoping my voice didn't show how disappointed I was. "Well, that's fine, if you're busy—"

_"What's up, Jules?"_ He repeated, clearly not caring.

I blew out a breath. "You know I hate cell phones. I'd rather you just came over."

I could tell my wiseguy code amused him by the chuckle he let out. _"O-kay,"_ he said slowly. _"I'll be round in ten. Your place clean?"_

I scoffed. "Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?"

_"You'd be surprised."_

His question had gotten me all paranoid, and when he hung up I spent the ten minutes it took for him to get here searching the apartment for any hidden wires. The Feds have been off our backs for a while now, and I doubt they'd plant anything on _me_ , but you really never know what kind of things those pigs have up their sleeves.

Harry rang over the intercom, and I pressed the little button that let him into the building. I waited by the door for him, flinging it open and taking him in. He said he was _running errands_ , but he looked pretty dressed down to me, a long wool coat covering his t-shirt and jeans. He glanced over me, frowning a little at my messy hair and (slightly) smelly pajamas.

He quickly pushed the door closed. "Okay, what's got you so upset that you can't tell me over the phone?"

Still a little paranoid, I looked around the room, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the couch. I pulled the both of us down, leaning in close.

"Someone got killed at Midnight a few nights ago," I blurted, figuring I might as well get straight to the point.

Harry's eyes widened but otherwise remained expressionless. "Explain."

I sighed. "This man—the one who was killed—was talking to Zayn—"

"Zayn was there?" Harry interrupted.

I glanced down to my lap. "Um…Zayn was the one who killed him."

Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Go on."

I nodded. "Well, they were in the middle of the club and it looked like he was begging, but Zayn didn't care, I guess, and his… _crew_ took him down to this cellar under the club. I followed after them," I ignored the look Harry gave me, "and when I got down there he was already beaten up pretty bad. He saw me though, that guy, and he said something to Zayn—it was in a different language, I couldn't make it out—and Zayn got so upset he stabbed him. He shot him after, and each of his guys popped him one, too—you know, _omertá_ and all that—and he looked _right at me_ so I know he knew I was there." I just stopped talking, forgetting where I was going with this.

Harry nodded slowly. "Thank you for telling me that…what exactly do you want me to do?"

I shrugged, falling back against the couch. "I don't know! I just feel really guilty because that guy _looked at me,_ and I feel like I'm the reason he was killed, and I freaked out so bad afterwards, like, if Gianno wasn't there I would've fainted probably, and this wasn't even that bad, like, how am I gonna become the boss of the most powerful mob in New York City when I puke at the sight of blood, how am I supposed to make my bones, what if Daddy made the wrong choice, I'm not even ready, I can't handle this much—"

"Fuck, Jules, breathe!" Harry said and I shut my mouth with an audible snap. "If that guy was in some trouble with the Paks he was dead before you even got there. You just sped it along…really, think of it as putting him out of his misery."

I squirmed, remembering how Zayn had nearly ripped his insides out, and I could be wrong, but he looked pretty miserable to me.

"And what did you say about Nic making the wrong choice? Are you having second thoughts about this? Because now is the time to walk away, while you still can."

I blew out a breath, pouting as my eyes rolled over to his stern face. "I…I want to do this. I just—" I cut myself off with a frustrated sound.

Harry chuckled, tucking me into his side. "You know you're not alone in this, right? I'm your second, and it's my job to take care of all the hard stuff. And who says you had to make your bones? Where'd you hear that from?"

I rolled my eyes. "You sound just like my father. I can't be a made guy if I haven't made my bones, Harry. We all have to do it, it comes with the territory."

He sighed. "Personally, if I could keep you from ever pulling a trigger I would, but like you said, it comes with the territory. I guess we'll just cross that bridge when we get there. And actually, Nic isn't all that old, so it'll be a while before the two of us really have to do anything."

I decided not to tell him about my father's suspicions, or about what happened to Petey.

"Are you gonna tell him? About what happened at Midnight, I mean," I asked.

"You said Gianno was there? He probably already knows," Harry said. I groaned. "You know Nic has eyes all over the city."

I frowned. "I hope Zayn doesn't get in trouble. It's not his fault I'm nosey."

I felt Harry shrug. "It's the principle that matters—his business should've been handled on the nights you weren't there. Nic overreacts whenever he thinks you're even in the slightest bit of danger. He'll probably just rough him up a bit to scare him."

My frown deepened but I didn't say anything. Thinking about my father's guys beating up Zayn made my stomach turn in the worst way, and I wanted to change the subject.

"Do you think I'll make a good wiseguy?" I asked Harry.

Harry took his bottom lip between his fingers, thinking deeply. "I don't know. How good can you be at being bad? In this business, doing your job well means making someone else's job a lot more difficult." He looked down at me, his short philosophical moment passing. "I think you'll be fine. Besides, you already talk like one. Listen to youse— _I hate cell phones._ You're a chip off the old block."

"Oh, shut up," I said, pushing him away. "I didn't know if the lines are tapped, I had to be safe."

Harry didn't stay much longer after that, and while I was closing the door behind him I was glad that I called. Obtaining such a high position of power is scary. _The mob_ is scary. This probably wasn't the last freak out I was gonna have, and it sure as hell wasn't the last murder I was gonna witness. Being the boss means sucking it up, freaking out later, and making sure I do what's best for the organization. And that really isn't all that bad, right? Last weekend made me realize that I had a lot of toughening up to do, and I planned to be as calloused as possible when I take over. I had to be if I wanted to keep my sanity.


	9. Back to Normal

I went back to work on Thursday, figuring I might as well suck it up and stop hiding from everything. It was reassuring walking into Midnight and receiving such a warm welcome, Niall running up to me and sweeping me up in a warm hug, Ant and Danny both messing up my hair. Zayn was in his office, so he didn't see me come in, but I kind of preferred it that way. I was still so conflicted about what had happened that night, and I just felt better avoiding him until I could figure out what I was going to say.

"So, where have you been hiding these past few days?" Niall asked, him cleaning glasses (that's all he does, I swear) while I sat at the bar and pestered him (that's all _I_ do, really).

I shrugged, releasing a noncommittal sound. "Eh, just felt like taking a few days for myself."

Niall nodded, not buying a single word. "What did Zayn do?"

I sputtered, looking around. "Who says Zayn had anything to do with it? What if I just didn't feel like coming in? Maybe I'm a lazy sonofabitch who just likes to sleep all day!"

"Okay, chill out!" Niall said, holding his hands up. "I just assumed…"

I leaned in closer. "What? What did you assume?"

Niall blew out a breath. "Let's just say that tensions have been high around here. We all really missed you."

I squirmed in my seat. "I was only out for three days."

Niall shrugged. "I think Zayn missed you more than any of us. Maybe now he'll stop acting like he's got a stick shoved up his ass now that you're back."

Someone cleared their throat behind us, and I whipped around to see Zayn standing there, a neutral expression on his face. Niall looked a little embarrassed, probably wondering if he'd heard that last bit, but held his head high as if he didn't regret it.

"Nice to have you back, Jules," Zayn said and I hated how emotionless his voice was. "Come see me in my office when you get the chance, I need to speak with you."

I gulped as he retreated to his office. Of course, all I'd taken away from that was how good he looked despite the circles under his eyes. I wanted to check for bruises, to see if my father's guys really had roughed him up. I didn't see anything on the surface, knowing they'd avoid his face. Fuck, I'd avoid his face too—a masterpiece like that doesn't deserve to be marred by such violence.

A shove from Niall roused me from my thoughts. "You better go see what he wants," he said.

I pouted, hopping down from the stool and making my way to the back hallway. I took a deep breath before I knocked twice on the closed door.

"Come in."

I pushed it open, sticking my head in first. "You wanted to see me, boss?"

Zayn glanced up from whatever he was writing down, his thick glasses pushed up on his nose. He gestured for me to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, and my legs felt like lead as I shuffled forward. I was hoping I could delay this talk.

Zayn stared at me for a beat before he spoke. "How are you feeling?"

I shrugged. "Fine, I guess…Should I not be?"

Zayn shook his head. "No, there's nothing wrong with it. I just figured you were a little shaken up since you'd missed three days of work."

I shrugged again.

He sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his hand across his forehead. "I'll get straight to the point since you and Niall are _so_ busy…" He smirked, and my face heated; he'd definitely heard what Niall had said. "Did you tell your father about what happened Saturday night?"

"What? No!" I exclaimed. "I haven't spoken to him in…in weeks."

Zayn didn't say anything, just nodding his head as he continued to rub his forehead. "He paid me a visit yesterday."

My stomach dropped. "Why? What did he say? Did he hurt you?"

"No, but he warned me to be more careful." Zayn cast a pointed look to me. "It was my fault that you followed us down to the cellar—I left the door open hoping you would. But it was still a dangerous position to put you in, a reckless decision on my part."

I nodded slowly. I was having a hard time following where he was going with this. "So…is that all you wanted to speak to me about?"

He sighed again, scooting his chair back and waving me forward. I walked around to his side of the desk, gently sitting on his lap and settling against his side. He wrapped his arm around my waist, his finger stroking my hip.

"I like you, Jules," he started and I hoped he couldn't see me blush. "I like you a lot. But…where are we going with this?"

I shrugged for the hundredth time that day. "I don't know. I like you, too, and I'd like to keep seeing you. I just wish things weren't so complicated."

"I don't want you to get hurt," Zayn said quietly after a long minute of silence. "You're a Payne, I'm a Malik—our fathers are the heads of the two biggest mobs in New York. I put you in a dangerous situation on Saturday, who's to say it won't happen again if we…make this serious?" I made a face. "You know what I mean."

I smiled, playing with the buttons of his shirt. "You make it sound like this is _Romeo and Juliette_. And I think you're thinking too hard about all of this. Why don't we just keep doing what we're doing, and take care of whatever problems when they get here?"

I felt Zayn smile above me as he gave my waist a little squeeze. "I like that idea."

I shifted so I was straddling him in his chair, my dress hiking up a little as I played with his tie. "So does this mean we're official, like an actual couple?"

Zayn smirked, his hands resting on my hips. "I don't know. Can I still see other women?"

"Fuck, no!" I almost shouted. "This dick is mine." I placed a hand on it for good measure. "And what do you mean _still_? Were you sleeping around before?"

Zayn squirmed, removing my hand. "I haven't been with anyone else since I met you, actually."

I relaxed, running my hands up and down his chest. "Good. If it means anything, I haven't been with anyone else, either."

"It does," Zayn nodded earnestly. "Now are you gonna keep talking or—"

I cut him off, planting my lips to his. It was truly baffling how excellent of a kisser he was, and I found myself sighing dreamily as we pulled away.

"You know," Zayn said, his lips ghosting over mine. "I've never brought a girl in here before."

I rolled my eyes, pulling him back towards me as I hastily undid the buttons to his shirt. Zayn's hands traveled up and down my back, searching for the zipper of my dress. He slid one strap slowly down my arm and I shivered. I helped him peel off his shirt before I climbed off his lap and shimmied out the rest of my dress, sinking down to my knees in front of him.

Zayn gulped. "Jules—"

I ignored him, not wasting any time as I wrapped my lips around his dick because I wanted this just as much as he did, and Zayn's feeble protests were instantly choked back once I took him deeper.

" _F-fuck_ ," Zayn stuttered out when gave a little tug on his balls.

I moaned around him, his face—eyes hooded, mouth open a little—enough to get me off alone. I brought a hand down to rub myself over my underwear, needing something to relieve the anticipation.

Zayn had grabbed a handful of my hair, holding my head steady as he nearly fucked into my mouth. I was moaning like the dirtiest of pornstars, my hand going to work between my legs. Zayn tilted his head so he could get a better look, and when he noticed me touching myself his hips faltered, and his load shot down my throat before I could process what was going on. I pulled off him, swallowing what I could and catching what dribbled out on my fingers, bringing them back to my mouth.

When I looked up at Zayn he was slumped in the chair, eyes glazed over as he stroked his dick lazily.

"Was it good?" I asked, just because I wanted to hear him say it.

He smirked at me, pulling me up so he could place a sloppy kiss to my lips. I smiled into the kiss, ruffling my fingers through his hair since he'd messed mine up so bad. I pulled away first, straddling him again.

"It was great, babe," Zayn said, still running on the high from a good orgasm. "But you didn't get to—"

I waved a hand, cutting him off. "I'm fine. Besides, I'll just come around your place after work and we can pick up where we left off." I winked at him, slipping my dress back on. Zayn made no move to put himself back in his pants, awestruck as I zipped up my dress and twisted my messy hair into a bun. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Malik, I have to get back to work."

I giggled as I left his office, Zayn's incredulously blissed out expression making me laugh. We were definitely gonna finish this after work.

 

***

 

Soph and I had a sort of assembly line going as we stuffed bags for her bridal shower tomorrow. I opened the gift bags and crumpled silver tissue paper, then passed it to her so she could place the party favors inside. It was an easy task, but we'd underestimated exactly how many we would need, since over a hundred people were going to be at this shower, and that wasn't even including our immediate family. A lot of mob wives and their daughters were going to be there out of respect, not only for Luke but for my dad as well. Even Petey's daughter, Theresa, was flying in from Chicago to be there. We _were_ gonna have it here in the apartment, but once we'd composed the guest list we thought we'd have to rent out a banquet hall. Thankfully, Soph's mother offered to hold it at their house, which was more than big enough to accompany all those people.

"You still haven't told me what you want to do for your bachelorette party," I said after we passed about ten bags in silence.

"That's because I don't want one," Soph replied.

I stopped crumpling tissue paper to look at her. "What do you mean _you don't want one_? Every bride needs to have a bachelorette party. It's your last hurrah as a single woman."

Soph shrugged. "I don't care about all that stuff. I haven't been single since I was sixteen, and I've only ever been with Liam. I'm kind of ready to get this whole wedding over with."

"Is Liam having one?" I asked. Soph turned to glare at me. I rolled my eyes. Why did I even ask.

I shook my head. "You're having a bachelorette party, even if it's nothing more than the two of us driving up to Atlantic City. And let me tell you why you're having one," I rushed out when she tried to protest. "I found an extremely interesting edible underwear and dildo set, and there's no way I'm giving that to you in front of your mom. It would taint poor Saint Maria's innocent eyes."

Soph snorted, choking a little at what I'd said. "Where the hell do you find an edible dildo?"

"Girl, you'd be surprised."

She laughed again, and we fell into silence as we stuffed some more bags.

" _If_ ," Soph said, dragging it out. "I do decide to have a bachelorette party, I want it to be just the two of us. And Atlantic City actually doesn't sound too bad."

I smiled, happy that I was going to be able to get away and do what I do best—spend all my father's money.

"I have one condition, though," Soph said, interrupting my little celebration. I glanced at her wearily. "You have to invite Zayn as your date to the wedding."

I choked on air, my tongue getting swallowed down my throat.

"Are you fucking crazy?!" I shouted when I composed myself. "Are you trying to get him killed? Are you trying to get _me_ killed?"

She shrugged, taking my forgotten bag to stuff the paper in. "Why not? You two are a couple now, and it's not like you already have a date. Bring him."

"No," I said firmly, because it was an absolutely ridiculous idea, and just—no. "I mean, it's _your_ wedding day, you can do whatever you want, including making funeral arrangements because with a Pak in a room full of Mafiosi, someone's going to get killed."

Soph waved her hand. "You're being over dramatic. And didn't Yaser and Nic resolve their issues when he bought Midnight? I'm sure Zayn'll be fine."

I let it go only because we keep Soph pretty shielded from what goes in in the business. But let me assure you, nothing between Nicolas Payne and Yaser Malik has been resolved, and I doubt it ever will.

"I can see you thinking about it, and you're thinking too hard," Soph said. She put down the gift bag she was holding. "Zayn makes you happy, Jules, and I want you to be happy while trying to keep me from having a nervous breakdown, so I want him there. That's the only way I'll let you throw me a bachelorette party."

I clicked my tongue. "Looks like you ain't having a bachelorette party then." I pointedly picked up a bag so I could continue stuffing.

"Come on, Jules, I'm serious!" Soph exclaimed, hitting me with one of the bags. "Call Zayn, see if he wants to come. If you have to push too hard just forget about it and come alone. Do everything alone!" Soph pushed back from the table, standing up and storming to her room. "My best friend is gonna die alone surrounded by eight cats and a nine millimeter all because she won't invite Zayn fucking Malik to my goddamn wedding!"

She slammed her door closed while I just stared after her. Her emotions have been all over the place lately, and these little outbursts were getting more frequent the closer we got to the wedding. It was sad because they actually worked, and I usually ended up complying to whatever she'd gotten so upset about.

I sighed, knowing there was no way I couldn't _not_ ask Zayn to be my date. Let's just hope his attendance won't start the next world war right here in New York.


	10. Wedding Bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the little delay in posting, I just moved in to my college dorm yesterday (eeeeee!) this chapter is about twice as long as the others, so hopefully you can forgive me

I turned away from the happy couple as they practically nuzzled noses with each other. We'd just finished a successful wedding rehearsal and Soph was on cloud nine right now. And I was happy for her, really. I may tell Liam he's as soft as a freshly shaved snatch from time to time, but I was happy that'd he'd found someone that he loved to spend the rest of his life with. Thinking about it even got me a little misty-eyed, and I already knew that I was going to be blubbering like a baby at this wedding.

We were on our way to the rehearsal dinner now, Harry giving me a ride since it was Gabe’s day off. He seemed to be pretty happy today, humming to himself as he steered us through the shitty interstate traffic. Soph and Liam were getting married in the church in Brooklyn we went to when we were younger (we were all heathens and rarely go now), but the reception was in this swanky hotel in Manhattan. The rehearsal dinner was also out in Manhattan, but I’d never heard of the restaurant we were eating at. As long as they served some good pasta and some good bread I’d be alright.

"I can't believe the wedding is only two days away," Harry said conversationally, glancing over at me as he drove.

I sighed. "I know. I kind of refuse to accept it?" It came out like a question, even though I didn't really know what I was talking about.

Harry chuckled. "Why is that?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Soph and Liam have both just been these constant figures in my life, and they're getting married…to each other…I've just been feeling a little lonely lately."

"Aww, Jules," Harry cooed, letting go of the steering wheel so he could pinch my cheek with his knuckles.

I laughed, swatting his hand away. "Piss off. You didn't just witness that, okay? Don't go blabbing to those two about what I just said."

"What did you just say?" Harry asked, sounding so genuinely confused that _I_ almost believed that I hadn't said anything. This kid was good.

I patted his cheek twice, glad he understood. We pulled up to the restaurant (someplace Italian, thank God) and I waited while Harry ran around to my side to open the door for me. After years of driving around with my own personal chauffeur, I'd definitely become spoiled and fully expected the man to open the door for me. All wiseguys were gentlemen, anyways…at least, the ones I've met have always been on their best behavior, but that could be because of who my father was. It was hard to tell a genuine sonofabitch from the phonies when you're in my position.

_Anyways…_

Harry's hand rested lightly at the small of my back as he led me inside, his head swiveling from left to right as he checked things out. Shit never really popped off when we were in the city, and I doubted anyone would try something at such a personal event. But Harry still had to do the standard sweep to make sure it was safe, and I was happy for the extra precaution, I guess.

“Have you found a date for the wedding?” Harry asked once we were inside.

I held up a finger while I informed the hostess we were here for the dinner. I answered him as she was leading us to the reserved area. “I kinda have someone in mind.”

“Do I know him? Is he from the neighborhood?” he asked, and I squirmed.

“Eh…you’ve _met_ him,” I said uneasily. I'm sure Harry wouldn’t care whether or not I was dating Zayn but I still felt uncomfortable sharing that fact with anyone but Soph. It doesn’t matter how close we are, Harry's allegiance was to my father; if he thought our relationship could cause problems within the mob (which it would) then he would be obligated to tell.

And we just can't have that. Not yet, at least.

Harry was about to press for more information, but I cut him off, shouting for Soph. She was nearly halfway across the restaurant, looking up when she heard my loud ass.

“I was wondering when you two would get here,” she said, scooting back from the table to give me a hug. She’d just seen me not thirty minutes ago, but it looked good and I was always down for a nice hug. “What took you guys so long?”

I grimaced. “Traffic was a bitch. Is that seat for me?”

Soph nodded, gesturing to the empty seat beside her. Harry sat somewhere further down the table, and I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t finished with the date discussion. I was glad he was so far away, because it was almost impossible for me to keep things from Harry. He gives you his undivided attention while you speak, and when he wants to squeeze information out of you, he’ll release _the eyes_. They were green (unlike the brown the rest of us had), and fucking intoxicating. I never lasted long under his stare, and I couldn’t risk sputtering about my secret relationship with Zayn. There’d be plenty of time for sputtering on the wedding day, when _my father_ questioned me about it.

A waitress came to take my order, and I felt something hit my arm when she’d left. I looked around for whatever it was, sighing and rolling my eyes when I saw Louis snickering from the other side of Liam.

Louis Tomlinson was Liam's best friend and best man. They met in college, found out they were both studying law and later attended the same law school. Luke’s brother, Harry’s dad, is a lawyer with his own firm, and he employed both Louis and Liam fresh out of law school. Even though the majority of the clients were more of the _wiseguy variety_ , they were actually very successful. Both Louis and Liam were good at what they did.

I couldn’t stand him, though. I've only met him a handful of times, but he seemed a little immature and joked around too much—coming from _me_ , that’s saying something.

I rubbed the spot where what appeared to be balled up straw paper had hit my arm. I kept my face neutral and unimpressed. “Hello, Louis. Nice to see you, too.” Sarcasm was all up in that.

He snickered again, and I'm guessing he caught it, too. “Nice to see you, Julie. How have you been?”

That’s another thing—he insists on calling me Julie, because that’s what Liam calls me whenever he talks about me. I don’t let anyone call me Julie unless they're family, but he insists, saying Jules made me sound like a second-rate stripper.

Maybe I _wanted_ to sound like a second-rate stripper.

Nah, no I don’t.

But if I _did_ , that’s up to me to decide, not some little elf who walks around with no socks on. Liam said he's got some stanky ass feet, too.

I sighed again. “I've been good.”

I felt someone pinch my shoulder, and I jumped, Liam's long arm reaching behind Soph to glare at me.

“Be nice,” he mouthed.

I widened my arms. “I didn’t do anything!” I mouthed back. Honestly, this was the nicest I've ever been to Louis. I could've just ignored him.

He glared at me again facing forward. I huffed, turning back around and stuffing a forkful of pasta in my mouth.

I didn’t say much during the meal, listening to everyone else’s conversations around me. The dinner was being held in a private room, and it was a good number of us here. We were all shouting over each other and I could only imagine how loud we were to those outside these walls.

Soph nudged me, and I looked up at her. “Have you talked to Zayn yet?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

I shook my head, leaning in closer. My father may be on the other side of the room, but I swear, that motherfucker could hear everything. “No, and I'm not going to.”

Soph stomped her foot. I felt it more than I saw it, her leg brushing against mine under the table. “Why not?”

“Because this is _your_ special day, and having him there will only cause drama.”

Soph's features steeled and she leaned in even closer. To anyone who didn’t know any better, it looked like we were about to make out. “Ask him, or I’ll ask him _for you_.”

I gave her a bored expression. She wasn’t gonna do shit. She didn’t have the balls. I told her that, too.

She scoffed. “Gimme the number. I can call him right now.”

"Oh, really?" I challenged. "It's 537—"

"Bitch, I ain't callin' your man!" Soph said too loudly and I chuckled while I shushed her. Liam shot us a questioning look and I waved him away.

"I…I'm going to ask him," I said quietly. As much as my stomach got butterflies in the worst way at the thought of him being there, I was dying to see him again, despite the circumstance. "But seriously Soph, this really isn't a good idea—"

I was cut off again by Soph's squeal and winced when she pulled me in for a hug. I caught a quick whiff of her breath, wondering if she was drunk. Maybe she was a little jittery with the wedding only two days away, but she was acting all kinds of extra tonight.

"I expect a proper introduction from you, too," Soph said.

I frowned. "You two have met before…" I trailed off uncertainly, racking my brain.

Soph shook her head. "I saw him sleeping half naked on our couch, but I've never actually _met_ him."

"Huh," I said, leaning back in my chair.

"And hopefully, after Saturday, he'll be sleeping half naked on our couch a lot more."

I gasped, nearly shoving her crazy ass off the chair.

 

***

 

I chewed on my lip the entire drive back to Brooklyn. I couldn't stop thinking about this whole Zayn thing, and it was making me want to pull my hair out. And don't get me wrong—I would love for him to come as my date, but I also knew how dangerous it would be to have him there. I wasn't even that afraid of him _being there_ , I was more worried about what my father would do when he found out. That wasn't going to go over well _at all._

"Is that lip tasty?" Harry asked, glancing over at me.

I smiled at his lame joke. I had a lot of other stuff on my mind. "Um, can you take me to Fort Hamilton?"

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Why do you need to go there?"

"I need to visit a friend."

He shrugged, making a u-turn as he headed in the opposite direction. I liked Harry because he was nosy enough to ask questions, but not nosy enough to pry. He stretched his neck to get a good look of the apartment complex we'd pulled up to, giving me a questioning glance, but otherwise said nothing.

I waved him away. "I'll be fine. Thanks for the ride."

He nodded his head once, still staring after me in concern after I'd left. I was surprised I remembered which apartment was Zayn's even though I've only been here two times (and one of those times I was drunk). I chewed my lip as I knocked on his door, holding my breath as I waited.

I heard shuffling from the other side so I knew he was home, but there were maybe a few beats before he actually opened it.

"Hey, Jules, what are you doing here?" Zayn asked in place of a greeting. "Is everything alright?"

I nodded, letting myself in. I had no clue what I was doing, standing in the middle of his living room awkwardly while I tried to figure out exactly how I was going to do this.

While I was still making up my mind Zayn had sat down on the couch, patting the spot next to him. I smiled nervously, hesitantly squatting down at the end farthest from him.

"Are you sure everything's alright?" He asked again, staring over at me with concern. I nodded. "You wanna fool around?" He waggled his eyebrows playfully and I couldn't help but giggle.

"No, I'm on the rag," I said sadly. I _wish_ that was all I was here for.

Zayn shrugged. "So? I have some in the back if you want me to roll with you. I think it'd be kind of fun."

My face twisted in confusion. "What?"

Zayn looked confused now, too. "What did you just say? Didn't you say you snorted a line before you got here?"

I felt even more confused. "No, I said I'm on the ra—" It suddenly clicked and I couldn't help the rather unattractive snort that slipped out. " _Yak_ , is cocaine, Zayn. When I say I'm on the rag I mean I'm on my period." I whispered that last part because it was a little embarrassing to say out loud. "What the fuck, you thought I was high? What kind of girl do you think I am?"

Zayn shrugged again, his face burning red. "Oh, leave me alone. I can't keep up with your Guido slang."

I just laughed again. Strangely, that whole thing had loosened me up and made me a little less nervous.

I chewed on my lip again, remembering what I'd came here to do. And it really wasn't that big a deal because if he said no it'd be a good thing—a _great_ thing—because then we could continue on with our secret relationship with no drama. I was really worried he'd say _yes_ because…well I'd rather not think about.

I was pulled from my thoughts when Zayn sighed, opening his arms to wave me forward. "Come 'ere."

I slid towards him. I was fine just leaning against his side, but Zayn had other plans, pulling me onto his lap.

He wrapped his arm around my waist. "What's wrong?"

I sighed, resting my head on his chest. "It's really not as bad as I'm making it seem," I said. He motioned for me to continue. "My best friend, the one that I live with, is getting married this weekend and I need a date to the wedding."

Zayn stared at me expectantly. "That's all? That's what you were so nervous about? Jules, I'll be happy to go as your date."

I squirmed uncomfortably. "Well, you see…her dad may or may not be Luke Smisatto, so there would be a lot of _very important people_ there out of respect for him."

Zayn caught on to what I was hinting at. "I see. It's not that big of an issue, I'll still go with you."

I chuckled nervously. "One more thing—she's getting married to my brother, which means my father is going to be there, along with every member of the Italian mafia within a few hundred miles of New York."

Zayn hummed. "And you're worried about your dad finding out about us?"

I nodded against his chest. Even though we'd just started getting serious, I was afraid of what my father would do. Knowing him he'd probably place a mark on his back and a reward for his head.

Zayn blew out a breath. "Am I crazy for still wanting to go through with it anyway?"

I brightened, turning to face him. "You still want to go?"

He sighed, nodding. “Your father isn't as scary as he looks. I think I can handle it.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” I squealed, grabbing his face and planting a big, wet kiss right on his lips.

He chuckled, pulling me in to deepen it. God, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of kissing him, and it killed me to pull away first. I was ten seconds away from saying _fuck my period_ and turning into one very nasty girl.

I rested my forehead against his. “I’ll text you the details for the wedding tomorrow,” I told him. I had to leave now or else I’d be slipping off the panties and the tampon along with it.

Zayn's grip on my waist tightened. “Do you have to leave now?”

I nodded sadly, his head moving along with mine. “Yeah. I want to spend tomorrow resting because the wedding is Saturday, and I'm gonna need to be on top of things since I'm the maid of honor and all. The tensions are gonna be high and I may even want to strangle Soph by the end of it.”

“Why can't you rest here?”

I smiled, nuzzling my nose against his. “Why don’t you want me to leave, Zayn Malik?”

He smiled slowly, looking so cute and I wanted to kiss him again. “I just want to spend some time with you, that’s all…and maybe cuddle a little.”

I squealed, doing a little dance in his lap. “That sounds nice,” I said.

He smiled wider, lifting me off his lap so he could stand up, pulling me up with him. “Come on, then. I have a TV in my room, we can put on a movie? And tell me how your best friend ended up getting married to your _brother_."

I nodded, following after him with a big cheesy smile on my face.

 

**Zayn POV**

I made a face as I adjusted my tie, turning down the street the church was on. It was awfully hot for the first day of June, and I cranked the AC in my car up so I wouldn’t sweat in my suit. The heat wasn’t the only thing I was sweating about, though. I tried to put on a brave front for Jules’ sake, but I was fucking terrified. I wasn’t scared of Nicholas, but Jules said that a lot of big shots from the Big Three (New York, Jersey, and Chicago) were gonna be there. They were some crazy motherfuckers (especially Chicago, I've seen _The Sopranos_ ) and I had no clue what I was about to walk into.

I texted Jules when I was outside, just like she told me to, and waited. A few minutes later I saw her running from the church in a long navy blue gown. Her hair was pinned up in rollers and her makeup was half done, but she still looked stunning.

I got out the car, greeting her with a kiss to her cheek. “You look beautiful.”

Her face flushed red as she waved me away. “Oh, please, I'm not even ready.”

“You look great either way.”

She giggled, leaning in to quickly kiss me on the mouth. “Okay, we have to go inside and I’ll show you to your seat.”

I followed her inside, watching silently as she stopped to greet people. She walked me down to nearly the front row.

"Wake up, old lady," she said, hitting an elderly woman on the arm.

The woman rolled her eyes. "I wasn't asleep."

Now Jules rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever you say." She turned to me. "Zayn, this is my grandmother, Gianna. I just call her Nan."

"You can call me Gigi," her grandmother said, and if I didn't know any better I'd say she was flirting with me.

"Put your dentures back in your mouth, Nan, he's mine," Jules said, confirming my suspicions.

Nan's eyes lit up. "I didn't know you were seeing someone."

Jules ignored her, turning to me. "I'm gonna sit you here next to Nan. I'm sure she won't let anything happen to you." She rolled her eyes again.

She turned to walk away but stopped, biting her lip before she leaned in and gave me another kiss. She smiled cutely before running back up the aisle and disappearing behind the thick double doors. I sighed like some chick before taking the seat next to Nan.

“How long have you been dating my granddaughter?” she asked before I could even get settled.

“Um, about two months?” I said uncertainly. Has it really been that long?

She nodded. “I can tell that you make her very happy. She's a feisty one, my Julie. A piece of work. She doesn’t light up like that for anybody.”

I remained silent, taking in what she had said.

“And you're very handsome,” she winked, patting my cheek twice. “A little dark for an Italian, but that's not important.”

I chuckled. “I'm not Italian. My family and I are from Pakistan.”

“Eh…” Nan drew out. “We can work with that. I'm just so happy my Julie has found a man. I was a little worried about her for a while; she was getting mixed up in all that stuff with her father, and I was afraid she would die alone. But here you are.” She smiled at me. “Soon it’ll be you two up there.”

I laughed nervously, rubbing the back of my neck. “I don’t know about that just yet.”

Nan just continued to smile knowingly, but otherwise dropped the subject. “I tease her about it but my Julie has wide hips, _birthing_ hips. I'm sure she’d have no problem popping out a few grandchildren—”

I was glad the officiant had stepped forward to shush the crowd, Nan's words making me a little uncomfortable. Don’t get me wrong, I was very serious about Jules, but all her talk about marriage and grandchildren was a little over my head.

Jules’ brother, Liam, stepped up to the alter, fidgeting nervously. He didn’t look anything like Jules or their father, and I looked around for their mother to see if he resembled her. I actually never heard Jules talk about her mother, and I tucked that into my list of things to ask later.

Jules and the best man were the first to walk out, and I winked at her as she passed. She waved, giggling into her hand. A bunch more bridesmaids followed, some of them without escorts, before her friend came out. Her face was covered by the veil, but she looked familiar. I didn’t really see much of her when I’d spent the night at Jules’ apartment. I recognized Luke right away, though, and I tried to cover my face so he wouldn’t notice me. It was his daughter’s day, after all.

The ceremony was lovely, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. The bride was crying as she said her vows, Jules was crying as she handed her the ring, and Nan was crying next to me.

“That girl is like family to us,” she explained as she wiped her eyes. “This just makes it official.”

When the wedding ended I got a text from Jules telling me to meet her at the hotel where the reception was being held because she had to take pictures. I agreed, braving the unusual heat to make the drive out to Manhattan. I waited in my car once I got there, flicking through the radio stations. I had almost fallen asleep when someone tapping on my window jolted me awake. I turned to see Jules motioning for me to open the door.

“It’s fucking hot out there,” she said once she was in the car, bunching up her dress so it wouldn’t get caught in the door. She turned to me and smiled. “Hi.”

I smiled back. “Hi.”

“How was it?”

“It was nice, really nice,” I told her. “Your grandmother was very entertaining.”

She groaned, throwing her head back against the headrest. “Oh, my God, what did she say?”

I chuckled. “Nothing too bad. Um, she mentioned marriage and grandchildren.” Jules groaned even louder. “But she said I was handsome, so I guess that makes up for it.”

She smiled over at me. “That is very true.”

“What do we do now?” I asked, but when I looked over at Jules I noticed that she was asleep. “Jules?”

“I'm not sleeping, I promise,” she mumbled, her eyes still closed. “I just need to rest my eyes for a minute. It’s been a very stressful day.”

“We can find someplace inside for you to lie down until the reception starts,” I suggested.

She hummed in response, so I took that for a yes. I turned off the car, getting out and walking over to the passenger’s side to scoop her into my arms. She didn’t even protest, just letting me carry her inside the hotel. I walked right up to the receptionist, asking for a room. She glanced between me and Jules, who was practically dead, before she handed me a key card. I shifted Jules so I could grab it, thanking her and heading towards the third floor.

The room was nice, and Jules demanded for me to put her down. I did as she asked, watching her sling her heels off and stagger towards the bathroom. She emerged a few minutes later in her underwear, the dress hooked carefully over her arms.

“I don’t wanna wrinkle it,” she mumbled out.

I didn’t say anything as she hung it over the back of a chair before she crawled onto the bed. I lifted the blankets for her and she smiled graciously as she slid under them.

“Can you wake me up at five-thirty?” she asked, eyes closed.

“Sure,” I said, flicking on the TV and turning the volume down low.

I climbed onto the bed next to her, sitting on top of the covers as I watched some action movie. While sitting there I noticed that Jules snored a little, and I thought it was kind of cute. I couldn’t imagine how much running around she’d been doing over the past twenty-four hours, and I was glad she could nap a bit before the reception. I was almost a little sad to wake her up.

“Jules,” I said gently, nudging her a bit. She made a sound, but otherwise didn’t stir. “Come on, baby, you have to get up, it’s five-thirty.”

She whined, frowning as she opened her eyes. “I was sleeping so good.”

I smiled. “I know you were, but you have to get down to the reception.”

She whined again, but got up this time. I helped her slip her dress back on, and she went into the bathroom the fix her hair before we left. She grabbed my hand when we were in the elevator; it felt nice and made no move to change it. When we stepped out into the lobby we were greeted by the bridal party, but I don’t think any of the guests have arrived.

“Where have you been?” the bride shouted from across the room, stomping over to us. “We’ve been looking all over for you!”

“I was trying to get away from your crazy ass,” Jules grumbled, her voice still laced with sleep.

Her friend rolled her eyes. “It’s my wedding day, you don’t get to treat me like this.”

Jules smiled. “Oh, no, we’re sisters now. You're stuck with me for the rest of your life and you have to take whatever I dish out.”

The bride stuck her tongue out at her, and I found their little exchange endearing. She noticed me then, pointedly glancing between Jules and me.

Jules sighed. “Zayn, meet my best friend, Soph, otherwise known as the pain in my ass that I just can't shake. Soph meet Zayn, my…” She trailed off uncertainly, glancing to me, and I could see the word laced on her tongue.

“Her boyfriend,” I finished for her, giving her a wink. She smiled.

I reached my hand out to give Soph a handshake, but she pulled me in for a hug instead. “Nice to meet you!” she said brightly. “Jules has told me all about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” I said lamely when she let go.

Soph smirked, but didn’t reply. “The guests aren't supposed to arrive until six-thirty, but I guess you can hang with us until then.”

I nodded, looking around for Jules, who had crossed the room to go talk to her brother.

“Come one, I’ll introduce you to them,” Soph said, taking hold of my arm and dragging me across the lobby. “God, Jules is _so_ bad at her job.” She muttered that last part under her breath.

She walked my up to Liam first. “Zayn, this Liam, Jules’ brother and _my husband_.” She squealed and did a little dance after she said that and I could definitely see how she and Jules were best friends. “Liam, this is Zayn, Jules’ boyfriend.”

“ _Boyfriend_?” Liam asked, and I winced at his tone. Here I was worried about her dad the whole time, while I’d never even considered the response I’d get from her brother.

Jules scoffed, looping her arm through mine. “Yes, Li, my boyfriend.”

They had this intense stare-down for a few seconds, the two of them practically communicating with just their eyes. Liam cracked first, sighing before he held out his hand to me.

“Nice to meet you, Zayn,” he said as we shook.

“Likewise.”

“Harry!” Soph shouted, waving over some lanky guy with hair that stuck up in every direction. “Come ’ere.”

He made his way over to us, glancing at Soph, then at me, and then back to Soph. “What's up?”

Soph gestured to me. “This is Zayn, Jules’ _boyfriend_.”

“Boyfriend?” Harry questioned, his head snapping towards me.

“Why do you fuck-faces keep saying that?” Jules asked angrily. “Yes, he's my boyfriend. I know I've been single for a while, but goddamn, cut me some slack.”

“Jules, can I speak with you for a minute?” Harry asked. He looked kind of angry himself, and I didn’t like the way he grabbed her arm to drag her through a door off to the side of the lobby.

“Where are they going?” I asked.

I never received an answer, just Soph shaking her head in exasperation. “Come on, Zayn, let me introduce you to my cousins.”

I politely greeted each of Soph's cousins—all thirteen of them—never having met so many Marias in my life. I would glance at the door they’d disappeared behind every thirty seconds, wondering what was taking them so long. By the time she’d finished I’d forgotten half their names, and Jules and Harry had emerged from the little room. Jules looked pissed off as she walked over to me, her feet moving with purpose.

“Hey, what's wro—”

I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence before Jules had grabbed my face and locked her lips with mine. I was surprised, but didn’t fight it, the kiss turning a little to steamy considering where we were. Or maybe not, as Soph's cousins—and Soph herself, who was the loudest one—whooped and hollered in the background. When she pulled away both of our chests were heaving and I had to angle myself away from her.

“What was that for?” I asked.

Jules didn’t answer, just resting her forehead against mine. “The guests are starting to arrive, but I have to enter with the wedding party. Go find Nan and sit with her. I’ll meet up with you after all the theatrics are taken care of.”

I nodded dumbly as I watched her leave with the others, Harry giving me a shifty look before he turned back around. This was gonna be one hell of a night.

 

**Jules POV**

I folded my arms across my chest as Harry nearly threw me into the little room off of the lobby.

"Ow," I said as I rubbed my arm, the blood rushing back once Harry'd released his vice-tight grip.

"What do you think you're doing, Jules?" He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What do you mean?" I asked back.

"Why did you bring Yaser Malik's son to my cousin's wedding?"

"Because I needed a date, and we're dating," I said as if it was obvious.

Harry shook his head, the angry lines that dented his forehead creasing deeper. "Couldn't you have found someone else? I'm sure someone from the neighborhood would've been happy to accompany you."

" _Soph_ asked me to invite him," I said, waving a finger in his face. "I know it's a bad idea to have him here, but everything has been going fine until now."

"Does Nic know that he's here?"

I shrugged. My father hasn't stormed into the hotel flipping over tables, so I'm gonna assume he doesn't. "What were you gonna do if he didn't?"

Harry sighed. "I'd have to tell him."

I gasped. "Harry, you wouldn't—"

"It's dangerous, Jules!" Harry shouted back. "You bring him here around all our family and we don't even know if we can trust him."

" _I_ trust him!" I yelled. "He doesn't give a fuck about all these people! He's here because I asked him to, and he's probably more afraid of _you_ crazy motherfuckers."

Harry shook his head again. "I'm telling Nicolas as soon as he gets here." He pushed past me to walk towards the door.

I yelled in frustration, pulling on my hair. "Why do you have to rat me out?"

He stopped, turning back around. "Jules—"

"No, I'm not finished," I said, pointing my finger again. "Me and you are supposed to be partners someday, but we're not gonna get anything done if you don't trust my judgement. Zayn's not dangerous, he's not focused on the hundreds of mafiosi here in the room. If _I_ thought there were going to be serious problems by him being here, _I_ wouldn't have asked him to come."

"Jules, you don't realize what you're starting," Harry said.

"You need to mind your own business," I snapped. "I have to go check on my _boyfriend,_ and you can leave me alone."

I pushed him out of my way this time, throwing the door open. I spotted Zayn immediately and marched over to him. He looked happy to see me, but quickly grew concerned once he saw the state I was in.

"Hey, what's wro—"

I grabbed his face and planted a kiss right on his lips, just because I motherfucking could! I'd taken him by surprise, but he certainly wasn't complaining. He pulled away with a gasp, and I pretended like I didn't notice him angle his hips away.

"What was that for?" He asked, breathing heavy.

I didn't answer him, trying to get my breathing back to normal myself. “The guests are starting to arrive, but I have to enter with the wedding party. Go find Nan and sit with her. I’ll meet up with you after all the theatrics are taken care of.”

Zayn nodded, still a little blanked out, and I smirked to myself. That was a damn good kiss, and I was tempted to pull him in for another one. I knew I had to go, though, so I just gave him one last fleeting glance before following behind the others.

It was super tense in the little room we were hiding out in, no one saying a word in fear of saying the wrong thing. Harry was giving me the silent treatment, staring daggers into the side of my face (that paradoxical asshole—how are you gonna ignore me and then stare me down?). After ten minutes of sitting in the most uncomfortable silence, Soph heaved out a loud sigh.

"You know what?" She started. "I'm gonna say it, because it needs to be said—Jules, as long as I've known you, I've never seen you as happy as you were just then. And if _some people_ have a problem with that, then _some people_ need to get over themselves." She was glaring at Harry, who was _still_ glaring at me.

My face was burning red, but I wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment or anger. Truth is, it hurt seeing Harry so against the idea of Zayn and I. If I had to have at least one wiseguy in my corner I knew it would be him, and for him to outright admit that he'd tell my father was a low blow. Harry was my closest ally in this business, and I was riding on having his support, on having someone calm my father down when he found out and put an end to it. Little did I know Harry was going to be the one adding fuel to the flame.

It _terrified_ me, knowing what Zayn and I had could come to an end tonight. We were just starting out, but I didn't want to let him go. Soph's words had made me a little uneasy, too. I mean, I knew Zayn made me happy, but I thought that was just because we had a crazy-good physical connection. I felt like I had stars in my eyes whenever I was around him, but we've only known each other for a couple months so I blamed it on hormones. It was strange hearing it from someone else's point of view.

It was super awkward in the little room now that Soph had gotten that off her mind, and my face was red as I _still_ felt Harry glaring at me. I was counting down the seconds until Soph's mom came to get us, announcing that the reception was starting and the wedding party were being announced. I practically ran out of that fucking room.

“That was rather uncomfortable,” Louis muttered as he looped his arm through mine.

I blew out a breath, nodding my head in agreement. I saw Zayn as I walked in, Nan hanging off his arm and chatting his ear off. He smiled at me, though, seemingly unfazed by it. I smiled back, waving just like I had at the ceremony. Everyone cheered when Soph and Liam walked in, and they all clinked their glasses, forcing the newlyweds to kiss. I sat with the wedding party during dinner, stealing peeks at Zayn every few minutes. He seemed to be doing alright, and that eased my nerves a bit. More importantly, Daddy hadn't even noticed he was here, enjoying himself as he and Luke talked loudly at the table across from mine. I fought back tears as Soph and Liam danced, then  laughed as she danced to some silly song with her dad. Usually, the groom would dance with his mother, but since our mother was dead, Liam pulled me to the floor in her place.

“I'm happy for you,” I told him.

“I'm happy for you, too,” he told me, smiling so wide I was sure his face would crack.

“Me? Why are you happy for me?” The question ended with a squeak as he dipped me unexpectedly.

“I know it’s a little unconventional, but you're my sister, and I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you as happy as Sophie makes me.”

I smiled because what he said about Soph was sweet. “I don’t know if Zayn and I are in that stage yet.”

“You will be,” Liam said confidently. “And don’t let Dad stand in your way. I’ll be there to support you one hundred percent.”

The song had ended, and I reached up to wrap my arms around Liam's neck. I don’t hang out with him as much as I did when we were kids, and we bumped heads a lot, but I really was glad to have him.

 

***

 

I waited until the dance floor was open to everyone before I made my way over to Zayn. Everyone was mingling, and I was too coward to go while my father wasn’t occupied.

I sat in one of the empty seats someone had abandoned. “Are you having a good time?” I asked.

He nodded. “Your family sure do know how to party. I knew that when I saw your guys throwing back shots at Midnight, but even the old dudes know how to hold their liquor.”

I chuckled, looking over at my extremely drunk Uncle Dominic. “Who's watching Midnight tonight? Do you have to leave soon?”

Zayn shook his head and I exhaled; I didn’t want him to leave. “Ant and Danny are holding it down for me.”

I nodded at what he said. I reached for his hand, intertwining our fingers together. He didn’t pull away, instead bring our hands up so they rested on the table.

“What did you and that guy with the hair talk about? When you were in that room?” he asked.

I sighed. “He was just…being an ass. He said that we shouldn’t be together because it was dangerous.”

Zayn sighed, too, running his thumb over the back of my knuckles. “He’s right.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he shushed me. “I don’t really give a fuck what he thinks, though. I know the risks of us being together, and yet I'm still here.”

“Well, don’t make it sound like such a burden,” I said, not liking the way he'd phrased that.

He smiled. “Trust me, Jules, it’s not a burden. Just maybe a little…problematic.” His eyes focused to somewhere behind me, and I turned around to see Harry whispering to my dad, the both of them staring at us.

I groaned, banging my head down on the table. “Fuck. My. Life,” I said in between each thump.

Zayn squeezed my hand to stop me, and when I sat back up I saw my father coming towards us. Thankfully, Harry had stayed behind; I was pissed off that his petty ass would do this to me, and really didn’t want to look at him right now.

My father glanced at our interwoven hands before he lifted his eyes to glare at me. "Come with me."

Zayn and I shared a look before we both stood from the table. He didn't let go of my hand, pulling me and my numb legs along as we followed after my father. We passed Soph as my father led us from the reception hall, and her eyes widened as she realized the extent of the situation. I did the sign of the cross and she nodded, knowing that God was the only thing that could keep me alive at this moment.

Ironically, my father led us to the same room Harry and I had talked in earlier that day. He walked to the other side of the room while Zayn and I stayed by the door. I could hear him taking deep breaths as he pinched the bridge of his nose and I became even more nervous—he was _mad_ as _hell._

"Julie," my father started, keeping his eyes closed. "Would you like to explain to me why you brought Mr. Malik to your brother's wedding."

Zayn stepped forward, letting go of my hand. "My father sent me, sir," he said, and my eyes bugged out as my head whipped towards him. Daddy opened his eyes, as well. "He heard that your son was getting married and thought it would be a good idea for me to be here, out of respect for you."

I stared at him in disbelief. He…he was _covering_ for me. And he was doing a damn good job, because he delivered that lie so flawlessly I almost believed it myself.

My father, however, was an expert at bullshitting, and cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "Is that so? If I call Yaser up right now is he gonna have the same story as you?"

Zayn nodded, not looking nearly as terrified as I felt (really, I thought my stomach was going to explode).

"And what about you?" Daddy turned to me. "Did you know he was going to be here?"

I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

"What's going on between you two?" He asked. "I had to find out from Stylini that my daughter's dating a Pak, and I look over at you and you're staring at him all _gagaz._ "

I gulped. "We're dating, yes." I tried my hardest not to show how scared I was because this my father, and really, I had no reason to be.

I was shitting my pants.

Daddy nodded shortly. "I hope you enjoyed working at Midnight, Julie. Yesterday was your last day. Say goodbye to Mr. Malik."

"What?" I exclaimed. "Daddy you're being ridiculous!"

He ignored me, turning his attention towards Zayn. "Thank you for paying your respects, but I think it's time you left."

Zayn nodded. I grabbed his hand before he left, squeezing it tightly. "Can you call me later? Please?" I asked and I wondered when I'd become so _desperate._

He smiled, touching my cheek gently before walking through the door. I was turned away from my father, and I took a few deep breaths before I faced him.

There were two sides to my father: the loving family man that he'd been for the earlier half of tonight, and _the Don_ , the cold and calculating persona he put on when he had to handle his business. I was used to those two sides, knew how to deal with them. This blank stare painted across his features was throwing me off. My father was a loud man; good things never came from his silence.

"Why are you doing this?" He whispered.

"Daddy—"

"I don't want to hear it," he said, and I snapped my mouth shut even though he'd just contradicted himself. "You're one of the few people I can trust, and you go behind my back and pull a stunt like this."

"Daddy, _please_ —"

"Let me finish!" He boomed, and I shrank back. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish here, Julie? Why did I have to find out from someone else that my own daughter is sleeping with the enemy?" His head snapped towards me. "Are you sleeping with him?"

My face flushed red. "I don't really think that's any of your business, Daddy—"

I jumped when he picked up a book from the bookshelf and threw it across the room. He chuckled scarily to himself as he ran a hand through his hair.

"He's a dead man," he muttered to himself, fishing through his jacket pockets for his cell phone.

"Daddy, will you listen to yourself?" I asked. " _This_ is why I didn't tell you, because I knew you'd overreact and lose your temper!"

"How am I supposed to trust you when you're sneaking behind my back with Malik's son?" He asked back, much louder than I had been.

"What _can't_ you? I'm still the same person, I'm still your daughter…except maybe I'm a little happier now."

Daddy was shaking his head before I could even finish. "It's unorthodox. You find you a nice, _Catholic_ husband, settle down, have kids. Whatever you have going on with him is just unnatural."

"Nothing about our life is orthodox!" I shouted, pulling on my hair. "I'm a female who's next in line for the most powerful mob in New York. Do you really think some guy from the neighborhood is really gonna want to deal with me?"

"Is that what this is about?" He asked. "You're with him because you think no one else is interested? Trust me, sweetheart, there are plenty of guys who will marry you without complaint."

I groaned loudly. The point was going right over his head! "Why does this bother you so much? I thought you and Yaser came to an agreement."

He laughed a good, hearty laugh that was so un-genuine it scared me. "So that means I want him fucking my daughter? Leave it up to me and I'll make sure you never see him again!"

"You can't do that!" I shouted, and before today I'd never talked back to my father like this.

"Like hell I can't!" He shouted back. "From now on you're to be escorted everywhere by Gabriel, and someone will be clocking you at all times. And don't think you can sneak around it because I _will_ find out."

"You're being unfair," I pleaded, desperation sinking into my voice.

"You keep that phrase outta your mouth," he said, pointing at me. "Life ain't fair! You think you're gonna make it in this business being _fair_?"

"I'm not gonna make it in this business because you never give me a chance to do anything on my own!" I accused, and we were suddenly on another subject.

"Because you're not ready—"

"When will I ever be ready if you keep treating me like this little porcelain doll?" I asked, cutting him off. "Escorts? Having me _clocked_? Are you really gonna go through the trouble to clock your own daughter? Christ, Daddy, how am I gonna gain any respect if my own father doesn't even respect me?" I was actually yelling, my face hot with anger.

"I do respect you," he said quietly. "Some women can't even be married to a wiseguy while you're out here being the grand poobah of wiseguys. You're a tough girl, Julie, and I'm being hard on you because I know you can take it. Do you know what I'd do if something happened to you? I treat you like you're fragile because you are—you're my little princess and you deserve to be treated as such."

"Zayn treats my like a princess," I whispered under my breath, but Daddy heard me anyway.

He sighed. "Come 'ere." He opened his arms, and I didn't hesitate to fall into them. "I don't trust this Malik kid," he said, his head resting on top of mine. "I'm being over the top because I love you, and I can't afford to be careless when it comes to your safety."

I nodded against his chest. "I know."

"But I don't want you seeing him anymore."

I nodded again and I couldn't even force myself to agree with him as the biggest wave of depression settled over me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to check out the [blog](http://aboveall-fic.tumblr.com) dedicated to this fic for face claims, mob term definitions, or if you just wanna come have a chat :)


	11. Bruises

I didn't go to work on Monday. I didn't go to work on Tuesday, either, and I ignored Zayn's calls on Wednesday. I felt like I had a few weeks ago when I was avoiding him after the cellar incident. Only this time, I wasn't away from him by choice, and that was what made all of this so much harder.

I left the little room in the hotel lobby crying after what my father said the night of Soph's wedding. Soph saw me rush past and followed me into the restroom, even though I refused to tell her what happened. She was so happy, and I didn't want to put a damper on her mood with this mess. She could tell that I really didn't want to stay there, and told me to go home. I didn't want to—I was the maid of honor, I hadn't even given my toast—but Soph damn near pushed me out the door. Gabe was outside, waiting for whoever to drunkenly stumble out so he could take them home. He was surprised to see my tear-streaked face, but, as always, remained silent. I didn't want to be in the same room as my father, but I didn't want to go to that empty apartment, either. It had been feeling a lot bigger now that Soph's stuff was moved out and she was never there anymore. Usually when I was feeling lonely I'd call Harry, but I didn't want anything to do with him, either.

Which brings me to how I've been locked away in my apartment these past few days like some damsel in distress. I didn't do much at Midnight, but at least it gave me something _to do_. I've caught up on all the shows on my DVR, finished off two new shows on Netflix, and really, there's only so many times you can reread the same book. I needed to go grocery shopping soon, but the thought of walking around Whole Foods with one of my father's goons trailing behind me sounded less than appealing. Leave it to my father and he'd have one of them go get it for me, and I'd never have a reason to leave this house.

I pressed replay on the DVD remote, watching _The Avengers_ for the third time today (it seemed fitting, considering the only way I was getting out of here was through some form of supernatural rescue). I was about to settle onto the couch with the carton of ice cream when someone knocked at the door. Any visitors I had didn't knock at the door since they had to beeped in, and I was instantly on alert. I tried to calm down a little, because it could be a neighbor asking for a cup of sugar, but something was telling me that wasn't the case.

"Who is it?" I called cautiously, wishing we'd put in that peephole like Soph had wanted.

"It's Zayn."

My whole demeanor changed, and I was smiling widely as I threw the door open. My smile was quickly replaced by a frown when I saw his blackened eye and cut lip. He was leaning against the doorframe, clutching his side.

"Zayn! What happened to you?" I asked, my hands hovering over his body. I wanted to help him inside, but I didn't know which parts of him hurt.

He groaned as he pushed himself off the wall, and I just went for it, wrapping my arm around his waist to lead him inside. He hissed, and I figured his ribs were bruised, but I didn't let that deter me. I helped lower him down to the couch.

I wordlessly left to get a warm cloth and an ice pack, carefully wiping the blood off his face and handing him the ice for his eye.

"Who did this?" I asked quietly as I wiped around his eyes. My twisting stomach told me that I knew who it was, but I didn't want to believe it.

He winced as I dabbed over his lip. "These guys jumped me as I was leaving Midnight. They came out of nowhere, and two of them held me back so I couldn't fight back."

My frown deepened. "Were they…were they my father's guys?"

Zayn shrugged. "I don't know, I didn't get a good look at them. All I know is that they can throw one hell of a punch."

I frowned again before I perked up with a different question. "How did you get in here? There's a lock on the building door."

"Someone was leaving and held the door open for me. I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go."

I then remembered that my father had people clocking me. "You can't be here," I said nervously, looking around me in paranoia. "My father has people outside watching, if they saw you come in—"

He waved his hand. "Those two idiots sitting in the black SUV? They were too busy balancing their guns on their foreheads. They didn't even see me walk by."

I relaxed a little. "I'm so sorry, Zayn. Where else does it hurt?"

"They got me in the ribs pretty good."

I instructed for him to take his shirt off and gasped at the ghastly dark purple bruise that covered the left side of his chest. His ribs were bruised, just like I'd suspected. I went into the kitchen to make another ice compression, gently placing it on his chest. He shuddered at the cold contact.

"Aren't you supposed to patch me up?" He asked, a little out of breath.

I shook my head. "My best friend's an RN and my father is in the mafia. I think I know how to treat a bruised rib."

He chuckled, making a face a few seconds later at the pain. "Thank you," he said seriously. I stared at him questioningly. "You didn't have to take care of me like this."

I shrugged, smiling a little. "I couldn't just let you bleed all over my couch—it would be a bitch trying to get the blood out of this material." He smiled at my bad joke. "And it's the least I could do, after what my father's guys did to you."

"I don't think your dad had anything to do with this," Zayn said. "Those guys keeping lookout would've been on alert, waiting to see if I'd show up. They didn't look like they were expecting anyone. If the guys who did this were connected to your father, they acted on their own."

I nodded slowly. "But if my dad didn't do this, who would?"

Zayn chuckled darkly. "Believe or not, Jules, your dad isn't the only one who hates me."

 

***

 

I made Zayn stay the night, helping him hobble towards my room. He offered to sleep on the couch but I wouldn't allow it; he needed somewhere comfortable to rest so his ribs could heal. I was going to sleep in Soph's old room, since she'd left the mattress ("Use it as a guest room," she'd suggested. "We never have guests," I'd replied back), but Zayn grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me into the bed with him.

I squealed, struggling to break out of his hold. "No, I'm smelly. At least let me shower first."

He let go, and I showered quickly and was back in my room within twenty minutes. I twisted my wet hair into a bun before I climbed into the bed. Zayn lifted his arm up so I could curl into him on his good side. I let out a deep breath, not feeling tired at all after napping off and on all day.

"What did your father say to you after I left?" Zayn asked. He had been quiet for so long that I thought he'd fallen asleep, and his voice startled me.

I had shifted so my back was pressed against his front, and I played with his fingers while I answered him. "We got into a big fight and he said I couldn't see you anymore."

He was quiet for a few beats. "Is that what you want?"

I turned to face him. "Of course not. I've been depressed for the past few days because I want to see you all the time. I missed you." I said that last part quietly, my eyes lowering from his intense gaze.

He lifted my chin up so that I was looking at him again and kissed me softly. "I've missed you, too. I feel like I've been going crazy since Saturday. I called that night."

I lowered my eyes again. He _had_ called, just like I'd asked him to. I was too upset over everything to answer, turning my phone off and throwing it across the room.

"Stop that," Zayn said, disapproval etched across his features when I looked back up at him. "I want you to be honest with me without being scared of my reaction. You don't have to look away every time you admit something."

I blinked, feeling a little thrown off that he had caught on to that. "In my world, women don't usually speak their mind."

He snorted. "You've never seem to have had a problem with it before."

I smirked. "I may be the exception."

Zayn sighed, pulling me closer. "The last thing I want to do is walk away and never see you again," Zayn started, suddenly serious. "But I can't be the reason you and your father end up hating each other. Your family comes first."

"Not when they're wrong," I said, staring right at him this time. "My father is letting his problems with your father cloud his judgements. He's too blinded to see that you make me happy."

He tenderly kissed the top of my head. "Would it make me any less of a man to admit that you make me happy, too?"

I smiled widely, shaking my head before tilting my head up for another kiss.

"We'll figure this out, okay?" Zayn said, rubbing slow circles on my back.

I nodded, hoping that he was right.

 

***

I woke up early to make Zayn breakfast. It wasn't anything special, just pancakes and fruit. I was going to fry up some bacon, but thought against it because I'm not sure if he's allowed to eat that. Soph used to eat turkey bacon, but I threw that shit out the day she left.

"I thought you couldn't cook."

I jumped, whipping around to see Zayn leaning against the kitchen doorway with a smirk.

"I said I _don't_ cook, not that I _can't_ cook," I explained. "And you're supposed to be in bed."

Zayn shook his head lightheartedly, slowly walking towards me. "You didn't have to do all this."

I shrugged, turning back to flip the last pancake. "Well, you have to eat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and all that jazz. Besides, it's more for me than anything." I smiled at him over my shoulder.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing a kiss to my cheek. I was overwhelmed with how…domestic this felt. It wasn't a bad feeling.

We ate breakfast in a comfortable silence, Zayn only speaking to compliment me on the food.

"You've just made my mother a very sad women, Jules, because those were the best pancakes I've ever eaten," he said sincerely.

"They weren't _that_ good." I was blushing, hiding behind my hair as I stuffed a strawberry in my mouth. "How are you feeling?" I asked, the black eye becoming extremely more noticeable.

He shrugged. "Still feels like I just got punched in the gut, but I've had worse. I'll live."

I frowned, not liking the note in his voice. "You're not leaving, are you?"

He sighed. "I have to. I gotta head in to Midnight—it's Friday, one of our busiest nights."

"Can't you take the night off? I'm sure Ant and Danny will understand."

Zayn chuckled humorlessly. "Ant and Danny pretty much hate me right now."

"Why?"

He chuckled again. "Did you know Ant has a little crush on you?"

"What? No, he doesn't." I could tell he was trying to change the subject, but I went along with it.

"He does. He gets those little hearts in his eyes whenever you talk to him, and he's been a whiny little bitch all week since you haven't been there."

Huh. I thought Anthony was just a sleazy pervert to all the women he came in contact with, but it turns out that was just his way of flirting with me.

"Of course, I told him you were off limits," Zayn smirked. "Couldn't have him making the moves on my girl."

"I'm still your girl?" I'd meant for the question to come out coy but instead I just sounded hopeful and desperate.

"Why wouldn't you be?" He asked back, smiling so lovely I had to look away.

I just smiled in return, finishing the food on my plate.

He left after breakfast, and I pouted while he slid his jacket on, not sure when I was going to see him again.

He touched my chin gently, and I glanced up at him. "No pouting," he said, leaning down to capture my lips in a kiss. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

I nodded, feeling sad and lonely as he walked out the door. Maybe if I tried talking to my father again, maybe he would listen this time so I could talk some sense into him. I just knew that I had to do _something_ , because I really couldn't stand the thought of not being able to be with Zayn.


	12. Proposals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the little delay in posting, my classes started today and I've been busy busy busy

_"Fuck."_

"Christ, Jules."

"Zayn!"

"Wait, Jules, slow down—"

I threw my head back, my palms pressed flat against Zayn's chest as I literally bounced on his dick. We had been going at it for a while now; I practically attacked him the minute he'd walked through the door. I'd been thinking about this all day and I didn't realize how much I wanted him until he got here.

We had worked out a system, Zayn and I, over the past week. It was a stroke of luck that he hadn't gotten caught the night he was jumped, but he knew he wasn't gonna be able to come in from the front entrance anymore. It was also a stroke of luck that my father didn't have anyone watching the back entrance of my apartment; it's where the garbage cans are, and Zayn would call when he was outside and I'd open the door for him. He came over every day after he left Midnight, and would stay the night and leave in the morning. It was risky, but it was working, and I was relishing in it because who knows how long it would last?

Zayn swore as I ignored him, clenching around him and picking up my pace. He gripped my hips tightly and bucked up into me. He was close, I could tell, his pace stuttering as he mumbled a slew of profanity. I had already came twice (and was quickly approaching a third time), but I wanted him to finish this time.

I leaned down to kiss Zayn heatedly, running my fingers through his hair. He broke away to press his forehead against my shoulder, holding me still and thrusting up into me once, twice, before he lost it, moaning lowly from the back of his throat. I followed right after him, trembling as I slumped against his chest. We stayed like that as we both caught our breaths.

"Was there any reason," Zayn breathed out after a few moments, his chest still heaving, "why you jumped me when I walked in?"

I made a sound that could've been considered as uncertainty, lifting one shoulder in what could've been considered a shrug. I was too blissed-out to do anything more than that.

"Trust me, I'm not complaining because that was—fuck, Jules—" He cut himself off, landing a light smack to my ass. I yelped in surprise. "That was fantastic."

I hummed in agreement. My whole entire body felt like putty and wow, I really couldn’t move. Zayn eventually pulled out of me, lifting me up so he could throw the condom away and use the bathroom. I sighed contentedly, staying on my stomach and splaying my arms and legs out like a starfish. Zayn chuckled at me when he walked back into the room, my eyes sliding over to his smirking naked form before I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Shut up, I can't move,” I said.

Zayn's smirk only grew. “That good, huh?”

If I could've lifted my arm I would've thrown something at him. “You ass.”

He just chuckled again, rolling me over so he could climb back onto the bed, then pulling me back on top of him. I resumed my starfish position on top of his chest.

“My father called me today,” I blurted out after we’d been silent for a while, Zayn stroking his fingers lightly up and down my back.

“What did he want?” he asked, a bit of steel in his voice.

I shrugged. “He wanted to know why I haven't left the apartment in a week. He said he's worried about me.”

“Why _haven't_ you left your apartment in a week?” he inquired, suddenly curious. “It’s not because of me, is it?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be so full of yourself…but it does a little bit. Honestly, I didn’t leave the house much before, even when Soph was here. I don’t go to school, I don’t work—I don’t _do_ anything. The only time I was coming and going in regular intervals was when I was working at Midnight. Since I'm not allowed there anymore, I guess I've just fallen back into old habits. And you decided to come to me, so I probably would've gone to seek you out by now if you hadn't.”

Zayn hummed, thinking over what I’d said. “Was that all?”

I squirmed uncomfortable. “He wants to go out for breakfast tomorrow morning. He thinks I haven't been eating since I haven't left the house. He's worried about me, remember?"

"Are you going?"

"It isn't really optional."

"…Does that mean I can't stay the night?"

I lifted my head so I could see his face, hearing the note of sadness in his voice. The corners of my mouth tilted up in a small smile. "No, you can stay over. My father's probably gonna send one of his cars over to get me, and whoever's driving never comes inside. You may have to leave a little early so you won't get caught, though."

Zayn smiled, squeezing me tighter against him. "I'll take it. You need to talk things over with your dad, anyway, so it's good that you're meeting up."

I made a face. "If you say so. I'm still mad at him and I want to talk to him about…whatever this is, but I know he's just going to flip out again. He's so stubborn and refuses to listen to what anybody has to say if it clashes with his opinions."

"Hmm, sounds like someone else I know," Zayn said, smirking down at me.

"Hey, I'm nothing like that!" I protested.

"You're stubborn, definitely. I'm not sure about the second thing you said—I zoned out a bit and missed some of it—but you're probably that, too. And what do you mean _whatever this is_? I thought we were going steady." Zayn pouted and I couldn't help but laugh. "What are you laughing at?"

I let out a few leftover giggles. "Going steady? What is this, 1951? I didn't think people still said that."

Zayn thumped me on the back, his face a little red. "Oh, shut up, I'm not from here."

"Will you tell me about that sometime?" I asked, elaborating when Zayn cast me a quizzical look. "About where you used to live before you moved to New York?"

He shrugged. "Sure. It's not something I'm ashamed about, really."

I nodded, unable to speak due to a huge yawn. Zayn was letting out a pretty big yawn of his own.

"You tired?" He asked. I nodded sleepily. "You better be after all that fucking sex we just had."

I groaned. "Oh, my God, Zayn, shut _up_."

 

***

 

Zayn snuck out around six the next morning, giving me a kiss from my bed since I was _still_ too wiped-out to move. I usually liked to see him out, but I didn't have to meet my father for another few hours, and it just wasn't happening this morning. He understood, the smug bastard, but didn't hold it against me. 

"Good luck with you dad today," he said, fully dressed and ready to go. "Whatever you decide to do, it'll all work out."

He kissed me goodbye and I stared after him with a dopey smile on my face as he walked out my bedroom door. I sighed, burying myself back under the blankets. I just laid there since I couldn't fall back asleep (definitely not because Zayn left and I'd grown accostumed to his body next to mine, but because he'd interrupted a good sleep), and so I just got up anyway.

As much as I didn't want to see him, I was glad my father was taking us out for breakfast because I _hadn't_ been eating, not as well as I did when Soph was here. I didn't have much stocked in the kitchen, but Zayn would sometimes bring something for dinner. And it wasn't like I was _starving_ ; it's only been a week.

I smiled at Gabe as he held the door open for me, greeting him like I usually did. As usual, he remained silent, but he did smile in return so I considered that a win. I didn't know which restaurant we were going to, but I noticed him turn onto the Manhattan Bridge, so wherever we were going, it was someplace in the city.

We pulled up in front of a cute little place, I wasn't sure what to call it. There was a line of other food shops on either side of it, but it was obvious that this place specialized in just breakfast.

My father's car was already here, Gianno sitting in the driver's seat and playing on his phone. I remember my father telling me (before I was put on lockdown) that he was trying to move up in the ranks. He was just an associate now, but I knew he wanted to get his button the next time the books opened. I've only interacted with him once since the cellar incident, but he seemed like a nice guy. He had to be pretty trustworthy if he was my father's driver; driving the Boss wasn't a job that could be taken lightly, and my dad didn't let any yahoo drive him around. I liked Gianno, and I hoped he did well.

That still didn't stop me from fucking with him, tapping on the window. He jumped, letting out a little squeal as he clutched his phone to his chest. I couldn't contain my snort, Gianno joining in when I started laughing. He flipped me off playfully, and it surprised me a little—you don't flip off the boss' daughter—but that was probably what I liked most about him. Gianno just didn’t give a fuck.

I took a deep breath before I reached out and pulled open the doors to the restaurant, the hostess leading me to where my father was already seated at a booth in the back, facing the door. He smiled when he saw me, standing up to pull me into a hug.

"How have you been, Julie?" He asked as he pulled away, holding me at arm's length. "Have you been taking care of yourself?"

I shrugged, wiggling out of his grasp so I could take a seat at the booth. "I've been okay. A little lonely without Soph, but I'll manage." I bit the inside of my cheek, thinking about how I've been managing just fine with Zayn there.

Daddy nodded, taking a sip of his water. "Liam called a few days ago, said they'd be back by the end of next week."

I brightened at this—Soph hadn't called to tell me jackshit, that bitch—but then schooled my features into a neutral expression. I had a purpose for coming here today.

"That's good. I'll be happy to have her back," I said, and the waitress came to take our order before my father could reply.

He sighed when the waitress left. "What's going on, Julie?" I opened my mouth but he cut me off. "And don't tell me that it's nothing, because I can see it in your face that you're keeping something from me."

I scowled. I forgot that my father read people for a living; neutrality or not, it was impossible to hide something from him.

"Why haven't you left your apartment?" he asked, and this time his face looked so pained that I had to look away. It was unnerving seeing my father so…human. "Is it because of what happened at your brother's wedding?"

I kept my eyes focused on the wood table in front of me, hoping my face wasn't giving anything away.

"Is it because of that Malik kid?" Daddy asked, and I couldn't help it, my body jerked at his name, however minimal it was and I knew he'd caught it.

He leaned back in his seat, his face blank. "I see."

I sighed, meeting his gaze. "Why does it bother you so much, Daddy?" I asked back. "Obviously you must have a good enough reason, or else you wouldn't have gone through the trouble of making two good earners clock me twenty-four seven just to make sure I wouldn't seek him out. So please, Daddy, enlighten me." It was my turn to lean back now, folding my arms across my chest.

"I'm doing this to protect you, Julie," he said and I scoffed. "Do you really think that _boy_ cares about you? This is all just some plot set up by Yaser to bring me down."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Do you hear yourself right now? You sound insane. I think you let what happened to Petey shake you up too much, but believe it or not, not everyone is out to get you. And I know for a fact that Zayn cares about me. Don't you think I'd know when I'm being used?"

Daddy shook his head with a small snort. "Of course you wouldn't. All a guy has to do is tell you that you've got a pretty face, and you're stupid enough to buy into everything he has to sell you."

I flinched back from his words, visibly hurt by what he'd said. "It's nice to know after all these years what you really think of me, Daddy. And, please, tell me how you think I'd be able to run this organization when I'm smitten with every guy who gives me a compliment? I'm sure I'll be getting plenty of them."

Daddy sighed, running his hand across his face. "I'm sorry, Julie, I didn't mean for it to come out that harsh—"

"But you meant it."

We stared each other down for a tense beat before my father gave in first. "I don't want you involved with the Maliks. Nothing good can come from it. And so help me, Julie, if I find out that you've been sneaking around behind my back—"

"Don't bother," I spat out, grabbing my purse and digging around so I could throw a few bills on the table. "I'm sure your stupid henchmen would've ratted me out by now if I had been." I pushed my chair back from the table, standing up and glaring at my father. "Sorry I couldn't stay for breakfast, I've lost my appetite."

I turned around and stalked through the restaurant, angrily pushing the doors open and storming out into the cool morning air. Gianno snapped up inside my father's car, startled by my abrupt exit. He shot me a questioning raised eyebrow, but I ignored him, heading straight towards where Gabe was parked. I threw open the door before he could get out and open it for me, fuming in the backseat. Gabe shot me a questioning look as well, but said nothing as he pulled away from the curb and started towards Brooklyn.

Halfway there I instructed for him to take me to the nearest McDonald's, ordering enough for a small crowd and charging it on my father's credit card. I then told him to take me to Midnight, my father's orders be damned. He cast me a weary look through the rearview mirror, but did as I asked.

"I won't be long," I said to Gabe as I hopped out of the car.

It felt like it'd been months since I last stepped into Midnight, even though it's really only been a week. There weren't too many people here since it was still pretty early in the morning, but that was okay. I wasn't there for them.

"Hey, boys," I said as I walked in, getting Niall, Ant, and Danny's attention right away.

"Jules!" Niall exclaimed, running from behind the bar to sweep me into a big hug, lifting my feet off the ground. Ant joined in when he'd put me back down, and even Danny ran over to get in on it. The few patrons at the bar stared at us with amusement.

I laughed, patting the shoulder of whoever was closest. "Okay, guys, that was a wonderful welcome, but you've got to let me breathe."

They all let go of me, and I chuckled nervously as they fired a million questions at me, remembering the promise I'd made to Gabe.

"It's nice to see you guys, too," I replied, subtly moving away. "But I need to talk to Zayn. Is he in his office?" Niall nodded, his eyes now zeroing in on the two McDonald's bags in my hand. "Oh, and I brought breakfast."

I tossed one of the bags to Niall, who smiled gratefully before rummaging through it with Ant and Danny. I let them fight over who got the McChicken biscuit while I walked down the long hallway. I knocked twice on the closed office door, Zayn calling for me to come in.

I cracked it open a little and poked my head in. “Surprise.”

Zayn's head snapped up from where his gaze was glued to his desk. “Jules? What are you doing here?”

I scoffed halfheartedly. “Well, if that’s how you're gonna greet me I can leave.”

He laughed softly, standing up to walk around and lean against the desk. “I know your dad was having you watched. Aren't you gonna get in trouble?”

I was all the way inside now, closing the door behind me and coming to stand in between his legs. Zayn rested his hands on my waist. “I brought breakfast,” I held up the bag, ignoring him.

Zayn gave me a look. “Jules, answer the question.”

I shrugged, my eyes looked on the floor. “Probably, I don’t know. I don’t care.”

Zayn sighed, taking the bag from my hand. “I take it the meeting with your dad didn’t go well.”

I frowned and shook my head. “He…he wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say and…he was just plain mean.”

“What did he say?”

I thought of the comment he'd made and felt my blood boil all over again. “It’s not important. He just made me so angry, I couldn’t sit there and listen to him say those things.”

Zayn nodded, rubbing my hip comfortingly. “I'm sorry he said…whatever he said.”

I sighed. “I don’t understand why he's being like this. I can't even try to have a conversation with him without it turning into an argument. We never used to fight this much before…”

“Go ahead, Jules, you can say it,” Zayn said, his face carefully blank. “You never used to fight this much before we got together.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say—”

“It’s fine,” Zayn said, a bit of an edge to his voice. “I’m not trying to come in between you and your father, Jules.”

“You're not! My father is wrong and stubborn and I'm not afraid to tell him that.” I sighed again, rubbing my hand across my face. “The whole point of me bringing you as my date to Soph's wedding was so we wouldn’t have to hide anymore, and here we are—still hiding.”

“I don’t like it either, but you have to remember that your dad is just looking out for you. Try and talk to him again. Hear what he has to say and then ask if he can do the same for you.”

I nodded, letting out a heavy breath. I gave him a quick kiss just because I could before stepping out of his grip.

“You leaving?” he asked.

I nodded sadly. “I told my driver I wouldn’t be too long, and I'm sure my father has been blowing up both of our phones. Besides, I’ll see you—I’ll see you later, right?” I was about to say I’d see him at home, but that wouldn’t be right because the apartment wasn’t really Zayn's home. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if it was _my_ home.

He smiled and pulled me in for another kiss. “Sure. Now go ahead, I don’t want you getting into any more trouble.”

I smiled. “No promises.”

I was halfway out the door when Zayn called me back. “What about the food you brought?”

“Keep it,” I called over my shoulder. He could split it with the other guys, I didn’t really care.

I half expected my father and half of the mafia to be waiting outside the club when I exited, but I was just met with Gabe, who drove me back to the apartment without a word.

 

***

 

“Hey, Jules?”

“Hmm?” I answered sleepily.

Zayn had come over when he'd gotten off work, just like he said he would, and I cooked something small for us before he took me to bed and fucked me into the mattress. I was almost asleep, and I thought he'd already passed out, but I when I peeked up at him he was lying on his back with his arms behind his head, looking deep in thought.

“What if we got married?”

My eyes flew open as I sprang up from the bed, staring down at him. “ _What?_ ”

“What if we got married?” he repeated as if it wasn’t the most absurd thing he's ever said.

I scoffed, settling back in under the covers. “Be serious, Zayn.”

“I am being serious!”

I scoffed again.

“Just hear me out, Jules. You're the daughter of the biggest crime boss in New York. My family isn't nearly as big as yours, but we’re well on our way. Your father is convinced that we’re planning something against him, but what if the marriage was like some sort of peace treaty? Think of it like _Romeo and Juliette_ —we would unite two feuding families while still being able to see each other.”

“They both died at the end of that play.”

Zayn wrapped his arm around me, rolling me over so that I was facing him. “Seriously, Jules. I think this could work.”

I pushed his arm away from me. “I don’t want to get married because of some business deal, Zayn! I wanted to get married because—because I'm in love.”

“Who says I'm not in love?”

It was quiet for a tense minute while we stared each other down.

“Are you?” I asked quietly.

He shrugged. “No. Not yet. I think that someday I could be, though.”

“With who?”

He laughed. “With you, Jules. I really like you, and I don’t want to stop seeing you because our dads can't get along.”

I huffed. “But _marriage_ , Zayn? Who's to say, ten years from now, that you won't hate me because you’ve found somebody else you love more?”

Zayn grabbed my hand under the blankets. “I don’t think I could ever hate you, Jules. And you can say no, if you really don’t want to go through with it.”

I sighed. “I don’t know, Zayn. It’s a lot to spring on someone at twelve in the morning. You haven't even gotten me an extremely expensive ring.”

Zayn laughed, pulling me closer so that I was tucked under his chin. “I can get you a ring if you want, the biggest diamond on the east coast. But you'll think about it?”

I sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

I could feel him smiling as he pressed a kiss to my temple. He fell asleep shortly after and I rolled back over so he could be the big spoon. I was wide awake now due to his proposal and I couldn’t get my thoughts to quiet down, wondering when the fuck my life became the main plotline from a shitty daytime soap opera.


	13. Everyone's a Critic

I was in the bathroom due to an overwhelming urge to pee when I heard the front door open. I instantly broke out into a sweat, because I was completely defenseless, sitting naked and afraid on a goddamn toilet. (I wasn't really _naked_ since I had slipped Zayn's t-shirt on before I left the room, but that's besides the point.) It wasn't like it was the middle of the night—it was twelve noon—so if someone was coming to rob me or kill me they clearly didn't know how these kinds of things worked. I couldn't even wipe my ass, I was so scared, just remaining glued to the toilet as I held my breath.

"Jules, your ass better not still be in bed, it's twelve in the fucking afternoon."

I let out a heavy breath, sinking against the toilet seat as Soph stomped around the apartment.

"Soph, you fucking bitch," I muttered as she walked past the bathroom door. She didn't even knock first, just barging right in.

She made a face at me. "Why are you sitting here on the toilet looking like you're scared of your own shit?"

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" I hissed. "I thought someone was here to kill me!"

Her face flattened. "At twelve in the afternoon?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, maybe."

She shook her head at me. "Just hurry up and wipe your ass—I need to talk to you."

I stared after her as she left the bathroom, wondering why the fuck she was even here. My father had told me yesterday that she and Liam weren't supposed to be back for another week. I expressed that much to her as I walked into the living room.

She rolled her eyes. "Liam caught some weird Caribbean virus, so we had to end our honeymoon early."

"So you decided to spread your nasty island germs to me?"

" _Liam_ was the one who got sick, not me. My body is too pure for that shit."

I shook my head, not even sure what that meant. "I missed you, Soph."

She smiled. "I missed you, too. I never thought I'd get tired of having sex, but by the end of the fourth day I had to tape Liam's dick to the other side of the room just so I could get some sleep."

"Soph, please," I said, making a disgusted face. "I'd rather not talk about my brother's genitals."

She shrugged as if to say _your loss_ before launching into the next topic. "So what have I missed? Anything juicy happen in the mob world while I was getting pounded into the mattress?"

"Soph!"

"Sorry, sorry, I can't help it! I just got married and my honeymoon had to be cut short, cut me some slack."

I shook my head again. "I don't think you missed anything, I really just stayed locked away in the apartment all week. Ask Harry, he probably knows more than I do."

Soph frowned. "Why didn't you leave the house?"

I shrugged. "I didn't really need to."

It was then that Zayn chose to emerge from the bedroom, looking adorably rumpled as he shuffled down the hall in just his boxers. I froze, my expression guilty. You could probably see a rotation of _fucking fuck fuck shit_ scroll across my forehead.

Soph glanced behind me at Zayn before slowly shifting her narrowed, accusing eyes to me. Her glare was actually burning my face.

"Morning, babe," Zayn said as he leaned down to kiss my cheek. "Hello, Soph." He nodded in Soph's direction before walking into the kitchen.

"It's twelve in the afternoon," she replied testily.

He smirked, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. "Then good afternoon."

She watched him with narrowed eyes as he disappeared back into the bedroom. She whipped her head to me once he was gone.

"No wonder you haven't left the house in a week—you've got your own live-in bootycall!"

"Soph—"

"I'm not mad or anything because you deserve to have a healthy sex life just like the rest of us—"

"Soph!"

"But you couldn't have warned me first? Your boyfriend walks out of your room half-naked like he owns the place—a _hey, bitch, my naked boyfriend is chilling in our apartment_ would've sufficed."

"Technically, it's not really your place anymore since you married my brother and moved out," I pointed out. Her eyes narrowed even more (not even sure how that was possible, to be honest).

"Does Nic know about this?" she whispered. I know my father had eyes and ears all over the place, but it wasn't like he was gonna pop up from behind the sofa.

I turned around to do a quick check just to be safe. "What do you think? I had breakfast with him yesterday, tried to talk him around to the whole thing…"

"And…?" Soph prompted.

I lowered my eyes. "It didn't go well. We got into a fight and I stormed away."

Soph sighed, shaking her head. "This is a fucked-up situation you've gotten yourself into." Soph shook her head some more. "So what's the plan?"

"Huh?"

"The plan," she repeated as if it was something I should've understood. "I know you're not gonna let this go, so you must be brewing some big scheme to get Nic on board with this whole thing."

I shrugged. " _The plan_ was for me to bring him as my date to your wedding. That didn't work, and I was hoping talking it out would, but, as you can see, that didn't work either. So…Zayn came up with an idea and he thinks we should…get married." I got quiet towards the end.

Soph blinked. And she was eerily quiet—and that's some real scary shit there, because that bitch never stopped talking. And I thought that this could be a good thing, maybe she was just processing what I'd told her—

"Married?" She said loudly, jumping up from huge couch, and I struggled to shush her. " _Married?_ "

"Shh, Soph, Zayn can probably hear you," I said quietly.

"I don't care!" she hissed. "That is probably the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say, Jules, and trust me—you've said a lot of dumb shit."

"Will you please shut up and listen to me?" I asked, yanking on her wrist to pull her back down on the couch. “I don’t even know if he really meant it or not, since we’d just got finished having some good sex—and I mean _really good_ sex—and sometimes people just…blurt out random shit.”

“So he asked you to marry him when you two were naked and cuddling in bed?”

“He didn’t really _ask_ , he kind of _suggested_ the idea,” I said, realizing how bad this was sounding to my own ears. “But look at it from a business perspective—me, being Nicolas Payne’s daughter, and Zayn, being Yaser Malik’s son, would establish some kind of alliance between the two families.”

“Like a truce,” Soph chimed.

“Yeah, like a truce!” I sighed. “It’s the only way we’d still be able to see each other and keep our father’s happy.”

“Nic is never going to be happy with this,” Soph stated, and deep down I knew she was right. “And Jules, _think about it_ —you want to get married to a guy you’ve just met a few months ago. You don’t even know each other.”

“We could get to know each other after we’re married,” I said quietly.

“And what if you get to know each other and find out that you can't stand the sonofabitch?” Soph asked, rather bluntly repeating the same words I’d told Zayn last night. “What if you realize ten years from now that this is not the guy you want to spend the rest of your life with? You know Nic would sooner shoot him than let you divorce him. I know you guys are crazy about each other now, but how long is it going to last?”

My head was lowered, staring at my fidgeting hands. “This isn't set in stone,” I muttered. “I haven't even talked it over with him, I don’t even know if he seriously meant it. It was just…it was an option.”

Soph nodded sadly, pulling me into her arms and tucking me under her chin. She rocked us back and forth while she rubbed my arm. “I'm rooting for you guys, Jules, I really am. But _you're_ my best friend, and I'm gonna take your side above everything else. I just want you to be happy.”

I didn’t say anything, letting everything Soph had said to me sink in. I was glad she was here to offer her opinion on the matter, however blatant it might be. Sometimes I needed blatant.

She left after retrieving a few things she claimed she’d left behind, giving me a sad smile and a hug before walking out the door. I went back to my room, climbing into the bed and curling up next to Zayn. He called the guys early this morning to let them know he wasn’t coming in today, deciding to just stay here and slouch around with me. He was sitting up and staring at his phone when I walked in, but lifted his arm so I could snuggle into his side. We sat in silence for a few minutes before I spoke.

“You were listening to everything we said out there, weren't you?” I asked, not accusing, just curious.

He smiled a little at being caught before he nodded. Then his smile turned into a sigh. “Do you really think it’s a bad idea?” he asked, pulling me close and rubbing my arm just like Soph had.

I shrugged, letting out a heavy exhale of my own. I’d been doing a lot of that lately. “I think it’s a risky idea, I think it has a big chance of blowing up in our faces, I think my father is going to hate me for the rest of my life…” I paused, taking a deep breath. “But I don’t think that means we shouldn’t try.”

Zayn smiled, and it was truly dazzling. “Really? You really want to marry me?”

I smiled back because his was so infectious and it was hard not to. I laughed incredulously. “Yeah. Yeah, I want to marry you—for the good of the business,” I tacked on at the end, smiling to let him know I didn’t fully mean that.

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss me, quick and hard. “For the good of the business,” he said when he pulled away.

My smile widened, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down so we could kiss some more.

What the fuck.

I'm kind of engaged.

_What the fuck_.

 

**Zayn POV**

I couldn’t help the smile on my face as I walked into Midnight the next day, and of course, the guys noticed and weren't going to let it slide.

“I didn’t think he knew how to do that,” Niall said in mock awe, referring to the smile.

I flipped him off.

“It looks so out of place,” Ant chimed in. “Like a serial killer holding a lollipop or some shit.”

I flipped him off, too, with my other hand.

“Nah, I know what that smile means,” Danny said. We all turned towards him, waiting for his response. “That’s the _I got laid last night_ smile.”

“Oh!” Niall and Ant shouted, Niall leaning across the bar to dap me up. Nick, the other bartender, and Zaki just chuckled.

Not even my dumbass staff could wipe the smile off my face, and I just laughed as I made my way to my office. I left the door open for Ant, who had followed me there.

“What's going on, man?” he asked, leaning against the door. “I ain't seen you this happy since…shit, I don’t think I've ever seen you this happy.”

I shrugged, ignoring his comment. “Can't a man just be happy? Why does there have to be a reason behind it?”

Ant gave me a look. “ Bullshit. Danny was right, wasn’t he? You got laid last night?”

I smirked. “That, amongst other things.”

“Are you still seeing Jules? Does it have something to do with her?”

“What’s with all the questions?”

Ant brightened. “Ah, hit a nerve. So what's going on with you and Jules?”

I sighed, glaring at Ant before gesturing for him to close the door. “We’re engaged.”

Ant’s eyes widened, nearly popping out of his skull. “You're _what_?”

“Engaged.”

“No, I heard you the first time, you ass; I was expressing my disbelief.” His mouth opened and closed a few times before he breathed out an incredulous, “ _Engaged?_ ”

I nodded.

“Does your pops know about this?” Ant asked. “Does _her_ dad know about this?”

I shook my head, looking down. “We haven't cleared it with them yet…we kind of just got engaged last night.”

Ant was shaking his head before I even finished. “Zayn, you can't go through with this.”

I raised a brow. “Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do?”

Ant’s gaze remained strong, refusing to look away. “Look, Jules is a sweet girl and you guys make a real nice couple and all, but she's just that— _a girl_. She's fucking twenty-one years old, has her whole life ahead of her. Last time I checked you weren't ready to settle down, and you're always here at the club. What kind of marriage would that be?”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but this really doesn’t concern you,” I gritted out. His words had made me angry, ruining my good mood. “I know you had this little schoolboy crush on her, but with you saying all these things, are you looking out for Jules, or are you looking out for yourself?”

“Whoa!” Ant exclaimed, looking around. “Where is this coming from? You getting upset because I'm speaking the truth? I'm just trying to look out for you both.”

“I don’t need you to look out for me.”

“Yeah, well someone has to.”

Ant and I stared at each other for a tense minute. He sighed, looking away. “You live a dangerous life, Zayn. Her father is the biggest mob boss in the city, her safety is already compromised. Don’t drag her into this shit.”

I didn’t say anything, glaring down at my desk. He sighed again before he threw open the door and left, leaving me alone to process everything he'd just said.

Ant was one of my closest cousins, kind of like the brother I’d never had. Personally, I thought he was acting like a little bitch, but I kept turning his words over and over in my head. I valued his opinion, and the only reason I’d told him about the engagement at all was because I wanted to hear his take on it.

And he thought it was a bad idea.

I sighed, frustrated, running my hands through my hair. I cared for Jules, and I didn’t want what we had to end because of some declaration made by her asshole of a father. I couldn’t ruin her life, though, with a marriage. Ant was right about her being young and all that shit, and her friend’s words from yesterday wouldn’t leave me either. What if she resented me, ten years from now, for forcing her into this?

Maybe I’ll talk to her again tonight, just to be sure that she really wanted this. I wasn’t sure how much it would mean to her, but I knew that it was something I wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment, I'd love to know what you guys think of this so far! And don't forget to visit the AA [blog](http://aboveall-fic.tumblr.com) for any references and face claims, or you can come chat with me on my [personal blog](http://jesusandals.tumblr.com) where I pretty much post about whatever :)


	14. For Argument's Sake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, I really need to create a little ping alarm to remind me of what day it is so i don't forget to udpate. in my defense though, i did get my first tattoo yesterday and had to recover from the massive adrenaline spike that ordeal was

**Jules POV**

Zayn squeezed my hand on top of the table, giving me a reassuring smile when he noticed me worrying my lip between my teeth. Today was the _big day_ —I even made a reminder in my phone calendar to emphasize its importance—and Zayn and I were waiting for our fathers to show up so we could have the sit-down and discuss the proposal. Zayn kept trying to soothe me, kept telling me that everything would be fine, but he didn't know my father and things only went one of two ways with him—moderately well, or explosive. His two settings were angry and slightly less angry.  I knew he was going to blow up over this. I was _expecting_ him to blow up over this. If he didn't, then I'd be concerned, but for now I just worked myself up over how much of a disaster this sit-down would be. Zayn could at least allow me that much.

It was a time just getting us to this point. As far as our fathers knew, they were meeting up to discuss an issue concerning Midnight. I wasn't sure how Zayn managed to get my dad here so easily (he said he'd handle the getting-them-here part, and I'd happily obliged), but they didn't know we were going to be here. I had to damn-near bribe my babysitters—the goons—to not tell my father I was leaving, as well as not follow me. It was an ordeal, to say the least.

I held my breath when I saw my father enter through the fancy restaurant doors. We chose some place in the city neither Nic or Yaser had any association with. Luke, and, surprisingly, Gianno were flanked on his sides and I wondered what Harry was doing that was so important he couldn't be here. Why didn't my father request for _me_ to be here? I was stumped—and a little hurt, not gonna lie—as to why Gianno was even _here_.

My father spotted our table immediately, and tried not to let the confusion seep into his stoic expression as he made his way over. He didn't get a chance to voice his concerns before Yaser walked in, flanked by two of his own men (I swear, all these mobsters travelled in packs). Zayn and I stood when they were both standing in front of the table.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Payne, please have a seat," Zayn said, trying to keep this as professional as possible. "Dad." He gestured for Yaser to do the same.

Both men sat, Zayn and I following after them. My father stared between us wearily before he let out a loud grunt.

"You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me."

My head whipped towards him, alarmed at his outburst.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" he asked, and I swear to God I saw his hand reach for his gun.

"No!" Zayn and I both shouted, gaining a few looks from the neighboring tables.

Daddy let out a relieved chuckle. "That's good. I almost shot you, Zayn. My grandchild would've been fatherless."

Yaser didn't say anything while my father basically admitted to nearly murdering his son, and I squirmed at how uncomfortable this situation was.

"I'm not pregnant," I repeated, just so my father would remove his hand from his weapon. "But there is something we'd like to talk to you about." I looked to Zayn, knowing I was going to choke up halfway through.

He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand, and my father's eyes zeroed in on the action. "Jules and I would like to get married."

My father laughed. He honest to God doubled over, hand on his stomach, and _laughed_. I frowned, not anticipating for it to go this way at all.

"Youse are real funny," he managed through his chuckles. "Now tell us the real reason you wasted our time to drag us out here."

My frown deepened. "That was the real reason."

Daddy chuckled some more. "Well, that ain't gonna fuckin' happen."

"Zayn," Yaser said solemnly, speaking for the first time. "Why do you want to marry this girl?"

Zayn glanced at me. This was the tricky part, because even though we weren't in love, we had to pretend like we were or else they'd never go for it.

"I care about her very much," he said honestly. I smiled at him. "And Mr. Payne has made it clear that he doesn't want us to be together. But Jules and I love each other, and that's not something we can do."

"Let me get this straight," Daddy said, leaning forward. "You want to get married because I said you can't be together?"

He hit the nail on the head. "No, of course not. We want to get married because we're in love," I lied, praying that it was convincing. "And…think of it from a business aspect. What's mine is his and vice versa. Daddy, you and Mr. Malik are the heads of the two biggest crime families in New York. Not only would our marriage tie the two families together, but it would form an untouchable alliance."

My father nodded thoughtfully, Yaser remaining silent. I was aching to know what was going through his head, if he was buying any of this at all.

"How long have you two been thinking of this?" Daddy asked, reclining back in his chair.

"Not long." At least that part was truthful.

"Do you really love her, Zayn?" Yaser asked, his face remaining a cool mask.

He nodded earnestly. "I do."

I almost believed it myself.

He was _good_.

"Well, I think this is fucking stupid," my father said flippantly and I could feel my temper rising. "It's obvious these two don't give a damn about each other. From a business aspect, it's a pretty solid plan. I don't have anything personal against you, Yaser—aside from the fact that you're a stingy bastard—and I think we'd make great business partners. But I'm not marrying my daughter off for my own personal gain."

"You've done worse," I told him, flatly.

My father's face darkened. "You asked for my permission, and I said no."

Zayn cleared his throat. "We weren't asking for your permission, we were informing you of our decision."

Daddy's eyebrows rose all the way up to his hairline. "Oh, is that so?" Zayn glared at him, his gaze unwavering. "What if I whipped out my nine and splattered your fucking brains across the carpets? Will that be your decision as well?"

"Nicolas, please," Yaser said, finally appearing to give a shit about what was said to his son. "Think rationally about this. It would be a very advantageous business deal. I don't like it as much as you do, but the pros are outweighing the cons."

“Nothing you can say is going to make me change my mind,” Daddy declared, and it was so final that I was ready to leave and declare this whole thing over.

Zayn nodded. “I understand, sir. But I'm going to marry your daughter, and you mean a lot to her, so I’d like for us to agree on this for her sake.”

They both stared at each other, the air so tense that I was nearly tearing my lip apart. When my father spoke it was directed at me, though his glare remained on Zayn.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” His head turned towards me, his eyes still holding a bit of the intensity from his stare-down. I swallowed nervously. “Did he put you up to this? Do you really want to marry him? Just say the word, Julie, and I promise he won't be a problem anymore.”

“I don’t appreciate you making such threats against my son,” Yaser said, his face drawn in anger. This was the most emotion I’d seen out of him the entire time we’d been here.

“Well, I don’t appreciate your son trying to manipulate my daughter into a marriage!” Daddy shouted, standing up and pointing his finger in Yaser’s face. Yaser stood up in defense, and I honestly thought they were about to start throwing punches. Both of them were too old for that shit.

“Daddy, you need to calm down,” I hissed. “Zayn is not pressuring me to do anything that I don’t want to do. I…I love him, and this is something we _both_ want.”

“What is this, _The Little_ fucking _Mermaid_?” my father gritted out, still standing although Yaser had sat back down. “Does that make me King fucking Triton? _I'm_ the bad guy because I'm the only one refusing to go through with this?”

(This was certainly not the time, but I couldn’t help but be a little impressed at my father’s reference to a Disney animated classic, momentarily forgetting about the argument we were having in the middle of a restaurant.)

“Nic, sit down and think about this for a minute,” Luke said calmly, and I’d almost forgotten he was here. My father sat down, Luke being the only person who could talk some sense into him. “They're kids. I think they're making a stupid decision that they're going to regret but I say we let them go through with it; they have to learn somehow. As for the alliance, that’s a pretty good deal that you should seriously consider and not shoot down just because you're unhappy with the situation.”

My father huffed like a small child, knowing Luke was right but still choosing to be stubborn. We all sat in silence for a few minutes while we waited for him to speak. “I'm not agreeing to anything today,” he said petulantly. “I need some time to think it over and talk to my daughter, and to you too, Mr. Malik,” his eyes briefly cut to Zayn, “but for now this meeting is over.”

He stood up again, the whole table following after him. He reached out to shake Yaser’s hand. “I'm sorry you had to be dragged from your busy life to deal with this nonsense. Hopefully I can try and talk her out of this.”

Yaser sighed, glaring at Zayn. “I assure you, my son and I will have a talk of our own.”

Both Zayn and I swallowed nervously. I couldn’t decide if this was a win or a bust, since neither of our fathers had really agreed to the plan. Yaser seemed to be leaning towards it and I got an _I’ll think about it_ from my father—which was actually more than I could've ever hoped for—and I was sure I could get him to come around. It wasn’t a win, but it wasn’t a lose either; it was an _in time, we’ll get there_.

Zayn grabbed my hand, about to pull us towards the exit when my father shouted out a, “Hell no!” before snatching me away. Yaser smacked his son across the head in response. I sent him an apologetic look, and he mouthed that he would see me later. That made me smile, hoping my father hadn't caught the exchange.

He did. His eyes were narrowed as they darted between us and he tugged on my arm harder.

Gianno walked ahead of us, Luke trailing behind, and the four of us climbed inside of my father’s giant SUV. Gianno took the driver’s seat, Luke in the passenger, and I sat as far away from my father as I could in the backseat.

I waited until the car pulled away before I spoke. “Daddy, I—”

“Don’t speak.”

I swallowed down whatever I was about to say. His voice came out as a low growl and I was reminded of the argument we’d had at Soph and Liam's wedding. Funny how we were still having the same conversation two weeks later.

It wasn’t funny at all.

It was _awful_ because this was my _father_ and I was tired of fighting with him.

“What is with this…this _boy—_ who you’ve only for three fucking months—that makes you so willing to just disregard everything I say?” my father asked, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. That was his trademark _I don’t have any more patience to deal with this shit_ gesture, and over the past few weeks, I’d seen my fair share of it. “You directly disobeyed me, snuck around behind my back, _twice_ , and now this?”

I kept my arms crossed, staring out the window as I noticed Luke and Gianno were pointedly trying to make themselves invisible.

“I brought Gianno with me today because he’s trying to get his button, he was gonna be on the list the next time we opened the books. I wanted to show him what should be expected at a sit-down, should he ever have to conduct one himself. But instead, I'm bombarded with this shit! Gi shouldn’t have had to witness that! This should've been something conducted in private between mature adults.”

“It _was_ conducted in private!” I shouted, and I had to take a deep breath to calm myself down. “How was I supposed to know that Gianno was going to be there? Zayn and I decided that the best way to get both you and Yaser in one place so we could talk it out like _mature adults_ was to arrange a sit-down. _You_ were the one who started yelling and blowing things out of proportion.”

“Don’t try and pin this on me.” He pointed his finger at me. “You lied to me to get me there in the first place.”

I scoffed. “If I had called you saying we need to have a conversation about my potential engagement to my boyfriend that you _hate_ , would you really have taken me seriously?”

“Yes I would've, because you're my daughter, and I respect your wishes.”

“That is a load of bullshit!” I screamed so loudly Gianno almost swerved into another lane.

“Calm down back there, Jules,” Luke said, just as calm as ever.

I couldn’t, though, my anger getting the best of me. “You don’t respect me _at all_. You want me to run this fucking company—without my button, let’s not forget that—and yet you don’t respect me!”

“Jules,” Luke warned.

“No, let her get it out,” my father said, and he was so unaffected by it that it only made me angrier.

“I've found someone who makes me happy and you're so blinded by who his father is that you can't see that. Not everything is about the money, not everything is about power, about this goddamned business! For once, can't you just be a father and _support_ me on this?”

My face was overheated and I tried desperately to calm myself down. I hadn't meant for all of that to come spilling out—I hadn't even known I’d felt that way, to be honest.

The car fell silent in the wake of my outburst, Luke and Gianno exchanging a look, my father wearing a hurt expression I had a hard time believing was genuine.

“I'm sorry, Daddy,” I apologized, not because I didn’t mean it, but because this wasn’t the time or place.

“Is that how you feel?” he asked quietly. “That I put the business above you? Above my family?”

I didn’t say anything, staring at my hands in my lap.

“Julie, look at me.” He waited until I did before he continued. “I've invested a lot in this organization, I will admit, but I've never felt it was more important than my own children. You and Liam, you're all I have left. I'm sorry if I have a hard time letting my little girl go.”

I nodded slowly. “You still treat me like a child,” I said, because he needed to know this. “I'm tired of having this same argument with you. I can't…I can't take over this business if you won't let me.”

We had pulled up to my apartment, and I was unsure whether or not I was allowed to get out of the car. We had managed to veer completely from our initial conversation, and I had to wonder if my father had done that one purpose.

“Why do you want to get your button so bad?” Daddy asked after a few minutes of sitting by the curb in silence.

“We’ve been over this,” I groaned, rubbing my hand across my face. How the hell did we go from marriage to this? “It all comes back to respect. For fuck’s sake, Gianno’s trying to get his button, and you seem to be all on-board with that.”

“That’s because Gianno is a—”

“A what?” I hissed, my eyes narrowing. “A man? Is that what you were going to say?”

He sighed, pinching his nose again. “Julie—”

“Stop,” I told him, gathering my purse and swinging open the car door. I had a foot out before I thought of something and closed it. “Three months ago you told me that you could do anything you wanted because you were Nicholas fucking Payne, and that meant listing a female as your next-in-line. But if you're going to continue to treat me differently _because_ I'm a woman, then you might as well find someone else to run this organization.”

I threw open the door, slamming it behind me. I stomped towards the door to my building, almost there when my father called out my name. I angrily turned around to face him, finding him leaning towards the open window.

“You want your button so bad, you can be at my house Thursday morning at four. Don’t be late.”

I didn’t say anything, silently entering the building and making it all the way inside my apartment before I collapsed.

In just two days’ time I would have someone else’s blood on my hands because I couldn’t keep my big fucking mouth shut.


	15. Sending the Right Messages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains minor character death and a sight issue of consent (not the sexual kind, but still just as important)

I spent the days leading up to Thursday in a numb and frazzled daze. I could only imagine what my father had in store for me, and I was scared out of my mind. I knew what the basics of what I had to do—and trust me, I _really_ wasn’t excited about it _at all—_ but Daddy could go overboard on things sometimes just to prove a point. And of course, he was going to try and prove a point…

…But what point was he trying to prove? That I didn’t have what it takes to make it in this business? That I wasn’t ready? I truly hoped he didn’t think that because then what was the point of all this? It was starting to make me doubt why he so badly wants me to take over for him.

The hardest part of all this was that I couldn’t tell Soph or Zayn. I didn’t want to drag Soph into this mess for safety reasons in case something went horribly wrong and she was called in for questioning. She could claim that she didn’t know anything because she truly _wouldn’t_ _know_ _anything_. I trusted Zayn, I really did, but this kind of information—who Nicolas Payne’s second was, who was going to inherit his throne—had to remain a secret. It was dangerous for everyone involved if it fell into the wrong hands.

He knew something was wrong, though. I stopped having him sneak in through the back, since we’d already told my dad about our plans to get married, and he still came over just as often. I warned the two babysitters that if they shot my boyfriend—fiancé?—that I would personally cut off their fingers and feed it to them. They wouldn’t so much as look at their guns. I didn’t care if they told my father, though; Zayn and I were finally out and open about our relationship, so he was just going to have to get over it.

Zayn watched me with concerned eyes Wednesday night as I cleaned the apartment. (If something went horribly wrong and I died, I wanted my place to be spotless in case the police had to sift through it for evidence. I may just be paranoid, but I was preparing for any possible situation, and if Zayn asked, the cleaning was therapeutic.) He stopped me when I had been dusting the same table for ten minutes when I had zoned out.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind. “What's wrong, Jules? You're scaring me.”

I sighed shakily, turning around to face him. “I'm fine,” I tried to smile, though it was more like a thin grimace. Zayn wasn’t convinced, his brows still furrowed. I sighed again. “I have something to do tomorrow and I'm just a little on edge.”

“Why? What do you have to do?” he asked, prying the lemon Pledge and dust cloth from my hands and walking us towards the couch.

I bit my lip as I sat down. “I can't tell you.”

Zayn nodded slowly. I could tell he had questions, but he was smart enough not to ask. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

I shook my head. “This is something I have to do myself.”

He sighed, pulling me closer. “It obviously can't be anything good seeing how you're so shook up about it. I'm not gonna ask for details, but please promise me you'll be careful?”

I nodded, leaning up to give him a kiss. He stayed the night, even though I had to be up early Thursday morning so I could make it out to Staten Island and not be late. Punctuality meant a lot to my father, and I was already treading on thin ice, so it was crucial that I was on time. Zayn was up to see me off (he was grumpy about it, because it was three in the fucking morning), but he gave me a kiss and another _be careful_ before I exited the apartment and climbed into the car, Gabe already waiting for me. I felt bad about having to wake him up at such an early hour, but that was part of being in the mob—you were always on call, no matter what.

I worried myself to near panic the whole ride there, a series of situations running through my mind. It was the _not knowing_ , the fact that my father could order me to do the most violent and vicious of crimes, and I would have to because he said so. Then I started worrying about Zayn, and _then_ an awful thought weaved its way through my head: what if my father made me do something to Zayn? It wasn’t uncommon for a guy trying to move up in the ranks to be asked to kill someone close to them, but Christ, I wouldn’t be able to do it. It would be cruel and heartless and _totally something my father would do_ , and by the time we pulled up in front of my father’s outrageously large house I was hyperventilating.

I was shaking all over as I walked up to the front door, not bothering to knock and just let myself in. I could hear my father talking in the kitchen with someone, and I frowned in confusion as I recognized Harry's voice. I stood nervously in the doorway, knowing one of them would notice me soon. My father was the picture of a perfect wiseguy, dressed in a dark red tracksuit and white t-shirt, and Harry was dressed in all black. I’d felt so scandalous dressing in all black this morning, and I felt like a true criminal. Both of their heads snapped up towards me at the same time (it was eerie, really, how synchronized it was), my father’s face breaking out into a wide—fake—smile.

“Glad you could make it, Julie.” He looked down at his watch. “And you're early.”

I didn’t say anything, my feet stuck to the ground. Harry looked between us with a suspicious glare before his eyes widened.

“Really?” he asked, his voice louder than it should be this time of morning. “Are you serious, Nic?”

Daddy didn’t say anything, taking a pointed sip of his coffee. “Come have a seat, Julie. Would you like some coffee? Something to eat?”

I shook my head, my feet somehow managing to shuffle forward. It all felt so forced, and I hated that my father had to put on this pretense in order to be nice to me. I looked over at Harry and saw that his jaw was clenched tight, his angry eyes focused on my father. And Daddy was just ignoring him, waiting for me to get settled while he drank his coffee. It was ridiculous.

Daddy sighed, his eyes sliding over to Harry. “Whatever you have to say—”

“Jules?” he asked, so many emotions in his voice that it was hard to focus on just one. “When you said someone was tagging along I thought it was gonna be some low-man trying to move up, but fucking _Jules_? She's your fucking daughter!”

“You think I'm happy about this?” Daddy yelled—again, much too loud for this early in the morning. “That’s my baby fucking girl! You think I'm happy about sending her off to put a bullet in some guy’s head?”

I swallowed, the blood draining from my face. Really, it was too early for this.

“She has to fucking learn, Harry. It’s something that everyone has to do, and Julie is not excluded from that.”

“I'm not doing it,” Harry said resolutely and I was practically eating my lip at this point.

“You're gonna do whatever I tell you to do,” Daddy said, challenging Harry to speak against him. “Now get over your fucking feelings, because it’s time for you two to leave and I need you to have a clear head.”

Harry slowly stood, waiting for me to do the same. I was more confused than I was when I got here, the two of them somehow managing to have a quick argument as if I wasn’t even in the room. I pushed my chair back, trying to keep myself from trembling like some pathetic puppy.

“Um…” I squeaked out.

“Harry’s gonna fill you in on the ride there, Julie,” my father said, looking straight ahead. I waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t, and I started towards the door. “Harry?” he called out when we’d nearly reached the door. “If even a hair is out of place on her head, I can assure you that I’ll kill you myself.”

Harry didn’t say anything, leading me out and towards his modest black truck. He opened the door for me and I climbed in, my hands fidgeting as he settled in and started the car. I waited until we had pulled out of my father's long driveway before I spoke.

"Harry." It came out as a croak and I cleared my throat, trying to make myself sound a little less weak. "Can you please explain to me what's going on?"

Harry sighed, glancing over at me with an apologetic expression. "Jules, I swear, I didn't know about any of this."

I shrugged, twisting my hands in my lap. "Harry, please, can you just tell me what I have to do? I already feel wretched enough as it is."

Harry nodded solemnly. "It's just a simple message job. Frank Cavello's been talking to the Fed's, and they've set him up with Witness Protection down in Pennsylvania. We're going to go take of it."

I was relieved— _it wasn't Zayn—_ but my stomach turned at how casual Harry was about it. "What's a message job?"

His face scrunched up. "Um…it's like—well, it's kind of self-explanatory. A hit is placed on someone to send out a message. In Frankie's case, he was a rat, so now everyone's going to know how he betrayed the family. One in the eye says _we're watching you_. Those can get a little messy, though."

"One in the eye?" I questioned.

Harry lifted a hand from the steering wheel, arranging his thumb and index finger like a gun, bringing it to his eye and clucking his tongue.

"Let me guess," I said wryly, my stomach dropping. "Frankie's gonna be getting one in the mouth?"

Harry smiled widely, winking at me. His sarcastically cheerful expression disappeared a second later. "Why is Nic making you do this?"

I looked down, pushing some of my hair behind my ear. "I asked him to."

He glanced at me with wide eyes. "Why the hell would you _ask_ him to do this?"

"Because I gotta make my bones, Harry!" I shouted. "If I'm going to take over for my father I want to do it the right way. I want to earn it. Every one of youse had to do it, why should I be any different?"

Harry blew out a breath, shaking his head. "I don't think you really know what you're asking for, Jules."

We fell into a silence. Harry fiddled with the radio, singing along to some song about guns and petticoats…and chocolate. I stared at him questioningly as I listened to the lyrics.

He smiled at the look on my face. "Come on, Jules, lighten up. This song seems rather fitting, if you ask me."

"Yeah, well no one asked you," I grumbled. "And that's not what that song is about."

"Petty crime while running away from the cops?" Harry supplied.

I raised a brow at him. "It's about drugs. And probably about running away from the cops, too, I don't really know why he's saying."

He chuckled, smiling for a beat longer before he went back to singing. I dozed off for a couple of hours, waking again as we crossed the lines of some city I'd never heard of.

"Are we in Pennsylvania yet?" I mumbled groggily.

Harry nodded. "We're about thirty minutes away. They've put him out in the middle of nowhere."

I stretched as well as I could in the cramped car. "Do you know what he did? Obviously he was working with the Feds, but what was he talking about? Who was he ratting out?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't ask questions, Jules, I just follow orders."

I blinked. "That's what the Nazis said, Harry. And they killed over six million people."

He chuckled, though I didn't find anything funny. "Well, I can assure you I haven't killed that many."

I tiled my head to the side. "How many people _have_ you killed?"

Harry glanced over at me, his expression blank and unreadable. "Too many, and I'm gonna leave it at that."

His voice held a note of finality to it, and I nodded. I remember when Harry had started to get involved in the business; he was young, only fifteen. Harry's dad had left when he was young, so Luke had taken it upon himself to look out for him, his mom (Luke's sister), and his sister, Gemma. Luke was worried that Harry was too soft, and had brought him around my father more hoping that it would toughen him up. He didn't know that my father was giving him jobs on the sly. My father realized that he was good at what he did, a little _too_ good, and by the time he was eighteen Harry had worked his way up to Head Capo. He was the youngest our family's ever had.

I could see how much it's changed him. His eyes held this emptiness that sometimes ran shivers up my spine. He hid it well, but I knew he let his guard down when he was with me. Harry was proof of how demanding and cruel this life could be. It was prophetic in the most terrifying of ways; my father held the same emptiness in his eyes that Harry did, along with many of the older men in the family. It was inevitable, the way this life would wear at a person until nothing but a hardened shell was left in its place.

Harry turned onto this bumpy dirt road off of the highway, a small, dilapidated cabin coming into view. He didn't stop in front of it, pulling up along the side of the house. He turned off the car, and I moved to get out but he grabbed my wrist. When I turned back to him, he opened up my hand and placed a semi-automatic with a silencer screwed on into my palm.

"Try," Harry's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Try to just get him in the mouth. I'll take care of the headshot."

I nodded, feeling absolutely sick to my stomach. He wrapped his hands around mine, rubbing his thumb across the back of my hand. It was soothing, but nothing could calm my nerves.

"You'll be fine, Jules," Harry said, and it wasn't until then that I realized I'd started shaking. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

I breathed in a shaky breath, pulling away from him so I could push the car door open.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting—some surreptitious breaking and entering maybe—but all Harry did was pick the lock and wave us through the front door. The house was quiet, even though it was almost nine in the morning.

"Shouldn't we have masks or something?" I whispered quietly, the gun rattling in my trembling hands. "What if someone sees us?"

Harry chuckled. "We're in the middle of nowhere. I doubt anyone's going to see us. And if they do, we can just shoot them, too." He shrugged.

I didn't say anything, following him as he led us to the bedroom. He cracked the door open, peeking inside before he opened it wider. He grabbed my hand, pulling me inside after him.

Frankie Cavello was a middle-aged man, maybe in his early fifties, and a physique that suggested he'd eaten one too many plates of his grandma's ziti. He was sprawled out across the small bed, sweat dewed across his forehead. He was extremely un-extraordinary.

"Whenever you're ready," Harry whispered quietly.

I took a deep breath, raising the gun and aiming at his mouth. It did nothing to calm me down, my hands shaking awfully as I cocked back the slide. My breathing sped up and my stomach clenched, the combined action causing bile to rise in my throat.

"I can't do this," I whispered tightly, barely keeping myself from throwing up.

"It's alright, Jules, I'm right here—"

" _Harry_." I lowered the gun, turning around to face him. " _I can't do this._ "

His face was pained as he spoke, "It's always harder the first time, but you have to do this, Jules."

I shook my head fiercely. "I can't, Harry, I'm—I'm not a killer, I can't—"

"Jules, look at me."

I forced my eyes to focus on his face, tears threatening to spill out.

"You have to do this," Harry said quietly, calmly. "It's awful, and it's scary, but I'm right here. I'm not gonna let you get hurt, remember?"

It didn't matter. I shook my head again, about to throw the gun on the floor. Harry stepped over to stop me, grabbing my hand and pointing it bak at Frankie.

"Shoot, Jules."

I shook my head.

He guided my finger with his as he cocked back the slide.

"Harry, please, don't make me do this," I cried, my words choking off at the end.

"Pull the trigger."

I struggled against him, trying to pull my hand back, but he just gripped it tighter, placing his other hand at my waist to lock me in place.

"Harry, please, I can't!" I was sobbing so hard that my head hurt, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I vomited all over the floor.

Harry used his finger to push mine into the trigger, and I screamed, backing into Harry from the recoil. The gun wasn't aimed at Frankie, though, and the bullet pierced the window. Frankie startled awake from the sound of the window shattering, glancing around in confusion, eyes widening when they landed on us.

"Fuck—" he shouted, reaching under his pillow for a gun of his own.

He pointed it at me and I sucked in a sharp breath. Harry's finger pushed the trigger again, shooting him right between the eyes. A second later he moved my hand down a fraction and shot him in the mouth. Frankie's body thumped back against the headboard, his dead eyes staring forward.

I broke free from Harry's hold, turning away a second before my stomach emptied itself, just barely missing Harry's shoes. My body sunk to the floor, and Harry was there in an instant, pulling me into his arms and tucking me under his chin. He ran his fingers through my hair as he rocked us back and forth, patiently waiting for me to calm down.

"I'm so sorry, Jules," he muttered quietly. "I'm here, I've got you."

I was still shaking, but the sobs had stopped, and I clutched tightly onto Harry's shirt. I wanted to push him away for what he just made me do, but I knew that this was something I'd brought on myself. I was actually grateful for Harry; who knows what would've happened if he hadn't been there? I certainly wouldn't have been able to do that on my own.

"I'm gonna take you back to the car now, okay, Jules?" Harry said quietly. I just made a feeble sound of acknowledgement.

Harry hooked his arms under my knees, lifting me up into his arms. I didn't even have it in me to protest, every part of me feeling achy and drained. He carried me to the car, opening the back door and laying me down against the backseat. I flinched when he slammed the door shut, but sat up when he walked back towards the house.

"Where are you going?" I asked, the panic beginning to creep back in.

"I have to go clean up the mess," he said through the window. "It won't take me ten minutes."

I laid back down, feeling as if I was going to fall asleep but knowing I'd never be able to. I vaguely registered Harry getting into the car, drifting in and out of sleep for most of the ride home.

I spent most of the time with my eyes open, staring off as I tried not to think about what had happened. I felt sick, and dirty, and so cold, because the only thing I could focus on was whether or not this would count. I didn't pull that trigger, Harry did. That fact was going to sit on my conscience for the rest of my life. I was too much of a coward to actually do the one thing I'd been trying to prove to my father I was mature enough to handle. It wasn't going to count, and I'd have to do this all over again.


	16. Home

Harry carried me into my building, offering to stay and keep me company. I decided to let him; I didn't want Zayn to see me like this, and I didn’t want to be alone and drive myself crazy. He sat me down on the edge of my bed, moving around my room and finding me a pair of pajamas. I was grateful for Harry. He'd been so cold and callous when we were in that house, but he was taking care of me now. It was strangely comforting; he had to turn into Harry the Head Capo in order to take care of business, but he was still my friend, and he was making up for it now.

I let him know that I was going to the bathroom to clean up since I felt grimy all over. He stared after me as I left, his brows furrowed with worry, and it looked like he was going to say something but changed his mind. I showered quickly and was back in my room within ten minutes.

Harry had pulled his shoes and jacket off, sitting on top of the bed. He pulled the covers back when I walked in, and I was quick to slide under them. He pulled me close and wrapped his arm around me. I took deep breaths, using his touch to ground me as everything that happened started to play through my mind.

"Does it ever get easier?" I asked quietly, breaking the silence.

Harry let out a heavy breath. He didn't need to ask what I was referring to. "The first time is always rough. It sits with you for a couple of weeks, months maybe. You may become desensitized over time, learn to stop seeing people as _people_ , and start seeing them as just a job to be done. But it never gets easier…at least, for me it hasn't. I've been doing this for a long time, Jules, and it's something I've excelled in, an art that I've perfected. The guilt, though…I haven't figured out a way to get rid of that."

I didn't know what to say to that. I knew what his answer was going to be before he even said it, but hearing him confirm it made it seem so official. This was something that I was just gonna have to learn to deal with.

 

***

 

Harry left after I fell asleep. I wasn’t surprised and didn’t fault him for ithe was Head Capo, after all, and probably had things to do. I debated whether I should spend my Friday in bed, or actually get up and do something. I hadn't come to a decision yet when my phone lit up, and I reached for it on the nightstand.

_Sorry I didn’t come by last night, there was an issue at the club I had to take care of. Won't be home until late tonight since it’s Friday Z_

I stared at the message for a long time before I was able to type out a reply. I'm sure it was just a careless slip and that it meant nothing at all, but Zayn said he wouldn’t be _home_ until late. He comes over almost every night, but to call it home? Is that what he considered this arrangement we’ve worked out?

_It’s alright, I was a little out of it yesterday anyway J_

I was sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal when he replied.

_How did it go? You wanna talk about it when I get home? Z_

See, there it was again. He'd said it twice now, so certainly it couldn’t have been a mistake. I shook my head, realizing that I was reading too much into it. Maybe I’ll bring it up when he gets here.

_Maybe. I might not feel up to it J_

_Whatever you feel like doing is fine with me Z_

I narrowed my eyes, feeling like there was a double meaning hidden in that text somewhere, but my brain was still too sleep-ridden to figure it out. I was still squinting when Harry called, letting me know he was outside and to beep him in.

He smiled when I opened the door for him. “Morning, Jules.”

“Hey, Harry,” I said as I closed the door behind him. “What’s up?”

He opened his suit jacket, reaching for the inside pocket and pulling out a thick envelope. He handed it to me.

“What's this?”

He gave me a funny look. “Your money?” He phrased it like a question, as if he wasn’t sure himself.

I just grew more confused. “Money? Money for what?”

He was still giving me that weird look, and it felt like neither of us had any clue what the other was talking about. “For the job you did yesterday?”

My eyes widened. “Oh, no, Harry, I can't take this!” I tried to shove it back into his hands, but he just pushed it back towards me.

“Why not? You earned it.”

“For killing someone?”

He chuckled. “Say that a little louder, Jules, I don’t think the pigs down in Jersey heard you.”

I huffed, crossing my arms over her chest. “Seriously, Harry, I don’t want this money.”

He sighed, sitting down in one of the chairs across from the couch, motioning for me to do the same. “How else do you think we’re supposed to make a living, Jules? We take a job, we get paid for it. I know you have some kind of moral code, but that’s gonna leave you broke. Please, just take the money.”

I sighed, glancing down at the heavy envelope resting in my lap. “How much is it?”

“Fifty thousand, I think.”

My eyes about bugged out of my head. “ _Fifty thousand dollars?_ ”

He shrugged. “Personally, I don’t think the bastard was worth that much, but that was the price for his head, and I'm certainly not complaining. Someone must’ve really wanted him dead.”

I frowned. “Wasn’t it my father?”

Harry shrugged again. “I don’t know. It could've been. He may have been doing a favor for one of the smaller families, and saw it as an opportunity for you to get your hands dirty. Oh, that reminds meyou have to give him a cut of that.”

“How much?”

“Everyone else usually has to split it sixty-forty, but I don’t know if he wants to make any exceptions since you're, y’knowyou.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want any special treatment. If he gets forty percent from everyone else, then he's getting forty percent from me.”

Harry laughed. “He gets _sixty_ percent from everyone else, Jules.”

“What the fuck?” That greedy sonofabitch.

Harry just laughed harder. “And I get a ten percent cut for being inconvenienced.”

“What the _fuck_?” I repeated. “Then what the hell does that leave for me?”

Harry couldn’t stop laughing at my outrage. “Hey, I didn’t say it was fair.”

I rolled my eyes, setting the envelope on the table as I got up to take my empty bowl of cereal into the kitchen. Harry said he was going to use the bathroom before he left, and I waved him away to show that I didn’t care, thinking of what there was to do today. I didn’t want to spend it in the house, and I wondered if Soph would be up for going out to lunch.

“Hey, who's staying with you?” Harry asked, suddenly right behind me.

I jumped, not hearing him come into the kitchen. “What are you talking about?”

“Your bathroom is like, full of shit. More shit than usual.”

I shrugged. “I'm a messy person, Soph was the one who did all the cleaning.”

Harry let out a weird frustrated sigh. “That’s not what I meant. There’s razors, and shaving cream, and a toothbrush in your medicine cabinet.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Why were you going through my medicine cabinet?”

“Jules, who’s staying with you?”

“That’s none of your goddamn business,” I hissed, pushing past him as I stomped from the kitchen.

“Whoa!” Harry exclaimed, grabbing my wrist to pull me back. “Jules, calm down! I saw all that stuff and was just curious, I'm pretty certain you're not using it.”

I tugged my arm out of his grasp. “Why does it matter?”

“Why are you getting so defensive?” he shot back. We stared each other down for a long beat. “Does Nic know Yaser’s son is staying in your apartment?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t you have a job to get back to?”

Harry sighed, taking a step back. “That Malik kid is trouble, Jules.”

“And this is coming from someone who’s been killing people since he was fifteen.”

His expression hardened, and he took another step back. “You have no idea what you're getting yourself into.”

He turned and walked towards the door, not sparing me a backwards glance as he left. Fucking Harry, only he could make every little thing sound like the end of the world. He was worse than my father.

I took a deep breath, not lettingwhatever that was get to me. I called Soph, deciding that lunch with my best friend would help clear my head.

 

***

 

I didn’t wait up for Zayn that night, knowing he would call when he got off and that the phone would wake me up. I groggily shuffled to the door, accepting his kiss with a halfhearted smile. He looked about as tired as I felt.

"How was work?" I asked on my way to the kitchen, fetching a bottle of water in hopes of waking myself up some.

He came into the kitchen and threw himself into one of the chairs. "Fucking exhausting. Earlier in the day Ant and Niall we're playing around and broke the handle off one of the beer taps. And Fridays are just hectic anyways."

I nodded, sliding into the seat across from him. Aside from the fact that it was three in the morning and I could barely keep my eyes open, I felt like one of those TV wives, making small talk with her husband after a long day of work. It was a little unconventional, but everything about us was unconventional. It was something that I quickly found myself getting used to.

"How was your day?" he asked back.

I smiled. "Alright. I had lunch with Soph." I conveniently left out the part where Harry had shown up.

"How is she?"

"She's good. She's been working late to make up for the time she missed because of the honeymoon, so she's been a little tired lately."

Seeing Soph today was a great distraction from all the crazy that's been going on in my life. We didn't talk about mob jobs, or stubborn fathers, or marriage proposals. It was nice.

He made a motion for me to come over to him, and I walked around the table, gently lowering myself on his lap. "Do you wanna talk about whatever happened yesterday?"

I shook my head. I trusted Zayn, but I could barely trust Harry not to rat out that it wasn't really me who killed Frankie Cavello; that was a secret I was going to take to my grave.

"No, it just left me a little shaken up," I said after a while.

Zayn kissed my shoulder softly. "That's fine. You're alright now, though, right?"

I nodded. "For the most part."

He wrapped his arms around me, squeezing a little. "Good. As much as I love talking to you, I don't think I can keep my eyes open any longer. You ready to go back to bed?"

The water had woken me up a little, but I found myself yawning at the thought of crawling back into the warm bed. It was even more inviting now that Zayn was here to curl up with me.

He took my yawn as an answer, chuckling as I stood up and shuffled back into my bedroom. I wasted no time climbing back in, burying my face into the pillows. Zayn had taken a quick detour to the bathroom, emerging in just his boxers and stuffing his clothes in a duffle bag in the corner of the room that I actually didn't know was there. It reminded me of what Harry had said before he left.

"Do you have a toothbrush here?" I asked when he'd slid in next to me.

He shrugged. "Does it bother you?"

"No, I just noticed that you had a few of your things here and was just…curious."

He pulled me closer to him. "It's easier to keep an extra toothbrush or set of clothes here since I'm over here so much. It keeps me from having to drive back and forth between here and Flatbush."

That makes sense. "Do you even spend time at your Flatbush apartment anymore?"

He shrugged again. "Why do I need to? Everything I need is right here in Bay Ridge."

I rolled my eyes, smacking his chest. "You are such a sap."

He smiled, leaning in to kiss me with a loud _smack._ "I like coming home to you. If we get married, I'll be able to do it everyday."

I ignored the fluttery feeling his words caused. "You do that now."

"Yeah, but it'll be official."

As sappy as it was, I couldn't help smiling at that. I really hoped my father came around, because I certainly didn't want this to end.


	17. Acceptance

At nine o'clock Saturday morning my father called me, told me to get dressed, and that he'd be at my apartment in an hour. He hung up before I could utter any words of protest.

I pressed my face into my pillow to muffle a loud groan. Really, I should've seen this coming. I was hoping I'd get a few more days to prepare myself, but my father wasn't one to wait around.

I disentangled myself from Zayn's arms, grumpily heading towards the bathroom. I had showered and combed through my wet hair when he woke up, smiling at him around my toothbrush. He smiled back, bumping me out the way with his hip.

"Hey!" I protested.

He smirked, reaching into the medicine cabinet for his toothbrush. We stood side-by-side, brushing our teeth together, and I couldn't keep the big cheesy smile off my face. He flicked my nose and I giggled. He was about to put the toothbrush back into the medicine cabinet when he finished, but I grabbed his wrist, pointedly placing is toothbrush next to mine in the plastic toothbrush cup. He raised his brow in question, and I raised mine back. He shook his head and smiled.

Zayn left a few minutes before me, and I wasn't waiting long before my phone rang. I was expecting to hear Gabe's smooth voice telling me he was outside, but instead, my father boomed through the speaker, letting me and the whole block know that he was outside and wished to be beeped in.

I had been all prepared to go out, had put on my nice jeans and everything. I was tempted to exchange them for a pair of yoga pants, and I would have if it was just my father, but Harry and Luke were trailing in behind him. I sure as hell wasn't prepared to have them come into the apartment, and Zayn's shit was laying around all over the place. A pair of his boxers were hanging over the back of the couch (don't even ask how they got there), and I quickly shoved them into the cushions while my father wasn't looking.

It wasn't hard to figure out why my father wanted to see me. Given the fact that I'd just made my bones not two days ago, I was sure he wanted an account of what happened. I wished Harry and I had at least another day to prep because I had no clue what lie we were about to feed him.

Daddy took a seat in one of the chairs across from the couch, Luke standing next to him. Harry and I sat on opposite ends of the couch, facing them. I felt like I was on trial, and I also felt extremely guilty. It was the arched brow my father was sporting; that eyebrow alone was enough to make me tell all my secrets.

My father leaned forward and weaved his hands together. "Frank Cavello was found washed up on the Jersey Shore this morning."

Harry and I exchanged a slightly nervous glance—only slightly, my father would be able to sense anything more than that.

I jumped when my father let out a loud laugh, clapping his hands once. "That's my girl," he said, sounding _…proud_ almost.

I bit my lip. "Is…is that alright?"

Daddy was smiling so wide it was scary. "Alright? It was fucking perfect. Who dumped the body? Did you do it, Julie?"

I was going to throw up. "God, no."

He waved his hands. "That's alright, it was your first time. I'll get Harry to walk you through it next time."

I blanched.

_Next time._

My father leaned back, trying to contain his glee, that sick motherfucker. "Tell me how you did it."

The blood drained from my face. "W-what?"

"You heard me. Tell me how you did it, tell me how you took him out. I wanna know the details of my daughter's first hit."

"Nic, I really don't think that's necessary, she shouldn't be talking about this stuff here—" Harry tried to protest, but my father silenced him with a raised hand.

"Is this place clean?" Daddy asked, and really, he should've asked that before he even sat down.

I scoffed. "Of course it is. I never _leave_ it."

"No, but you do have people coming in."

My head whipped towards Harry, outraged that his ass would betray me like this _again._ His eyes widened in a look that said _I didn't say anything_.

Daddy chuckled. "Yeah, I know all about that. We'll get to that later, though. I still wanna hear about Frankie the Rat."

I took a shaky breath. "He was in some old house out in the woods, and we went in through the front door. He was asleep in his room, so I just—I—" I lowered my eyes, unable to lie while looking into his hard stare.

"Spit it out, Julie," my father barked.

"Ease up, Nic," Harry said angrily, and I wondered what the hell he was doing. Talking to my father like that would leave you with a bullet in your ass.

Daddy turned to him, his brows raised in shock. "Why should I? Why can't she tell me what she did?"

"She took it a little hard, it shook her up a bit," Harry said softly. "Go easy on her."

"You think I give a damn?" Daddy asked, his voice so cold. "I didn't have anybody holding my hand through this, Harry, and if I remember correctly neither did you. Julie thinks she can be a wiseguy, she's gonna be treated like one."

"I shot him in the head," I blurted out, unable to stand the yelling match between Harry and my father.

Daddy's eyes narrows suspiciously. "In the head?"

"And the mouth." My voice only wavered slightly and I was proud.

Daddy nodded, seeming to believe me. "Good. Luke, take Harry around the block to cool off a bit, I need to speak with Julie alone."

I swallowed as Luke and Harry stood, promptly leaving the apartment. Harry cast me a reassuring glance before closing the door behind him.

Daddy sighed, leaning forward again. "Are you alright, Julie? Really?"

I blinked. One minute he was yelling about how he didn't care about my well-being, and another he was suddenly a concerned parent. He was giving me whiplash.

"I guess," I answered slowly. "I mean, I'd have to be one sick fuck to find enjoyment in killing someone."

He chuckled darkly. "Our family is full of sick fucks. How do you think we get things done?"

I was glad he was able to find all this funny and make a joke out of it, because I was definitely shitting my pants.

"That whole thing with Frankie," he started, "I don't really care about it. I've spent the last few days thinking about you and Malik's son."

I sucked in a breath. "And…?"

"It's the stupidest idea you've ever come up with."

I slumped in defeat.

"But, in a business aspect, it's a very smart move."

My eyes brightened as I looked up hopefully. "Does this mean…?"

Daddy sighed heavily. "I don't like it. I don't like it at all and I'm hoping this marriage will fail. But I can't pass up an opportunity like this."

I frowned. "So, you're more concerned about how advantageous it would be business-wise than the fact that I'm happy and…in love?"

He shrugged. "I'm letting you get married, what more do you want from me?"

My face furrowed in a mix of confusion and anger. "I want your support! I want to know that you're not gonna try and pull some sneaky shit while I've got my guard down. I want…I want you to happily walk me down the aisle."

He laughed. "Julie, I'm not happy with any of this! You're marrying the enemy! Those Maliks, they're planning something, and you're too _gagaz_ to see it. I wouldn't be surprised if Yaser set him up to it himself."

I let out a wordless shout of frustration. "Your paranoia is going to be the death of you. _Zayn_ wants to marry _me_ because we make each other happy. Can you pull your head out of your ass for one second?"

My father's eyes raked over my face for a few quiet moments. "I hope you know that this is permanent. Divorce is not an option. A year from now, when you two have known each other longer than three months, you're going to look back and realize how stupid of a decision this is, and there's nothing I'm gonna be able to do to help you. You want to marry him? Hire a planner, you've got two months to get it done."

" _Two months?_ " I shouted. "I can't plan a wedding in two months!"

He shrugged, standing up. "Honestly, that's not my problem, Julie. Bring that kid by Nan's tomorrow for Sunday dinner, introduce him to the family, tell them about this."

I watched him go, fuming from my spot on the couch. I couldn't even begin to process what had just happened. All I knew was that my father was one manipulative bastard.

 

***

 

Since it was Saturday, Zayn didn't get in until late, just like last night. I couldn't sleep, though, so when he called at two in the morning I was still awake and waiting for him.

He frowned when I opened the door. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

I shook my head, stepping aside so he could come in. "No, nothing happened. My father stopped by today."

Zayn instantly stiffened, already bracing himself. I hated that the thought of my father elicited that reaction from him. "He said no." It wasn't phrased as a question.

I sunk down onto the couch and motioned for him to do the same. "No, actually, he said yes."

Zayn blinked. "Yes? He agreed to it?"

I nodded, a slow smile breaking over my face. Before I could say anything else, Zayn had pulled me onto his lap, kissing me fiercely. I rested my hands on his shoulders, sighing into the kiss. He was smiling widely when we pulled away, peppering light kisses all over my face. I giggled, waving my hand in an attempt to get him to stop.

"Wait, before you get too happy, there's a few conditions," I said, sad that I had to burst his bubble. "He's not happy about it at all, and only gave us two months to plan it."

He bit his lip. "That's not a lot of time, right?"

I gave him a look. "It's impossible."

He shrugged, burying his face in the space between my neck and shoulder. "Then we'll keep it simple."

"Mob weddings aren't simple, Zayn."

He started to leave a trail of kisses along my neck. "We'll work it out."

The feel of his lips were distracting, but I had to carry on—I wasn't through with the conditions.

"He wants you to come to Sunday dinner at my grandmother's house tomorrow," I grit out.

He softly scraped his teeth over the spot right beneath my ear and I shivered. "Okay."

I put my hands on his chest to push him back, needing some space to clear my head. "Why are you so…okay with all of this?"

Zayn rested his hands on my waist. "Because all that stuff doesn't matter to me. You want me to meet your family? Fine. You want a big wedding? Okay. I'm down for whatever makes you happy, Jules, as long as we're still getting married at the end of the day."

I grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him hard. That was the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me, and I could tell that it was genuine.

I pulled his dark blue dress shirt out of his pants, undoing a few of the buttons near the bottom. I was working my way up when Zayn tightened his grip on my waist and stood up from the couch. I wrapped my legs around him, unbuttoning his shirt as he carried me to the bedroom. He gently sat me down on the bed, and I clawed at him when he tried to move away.

He chuckled. "Hold on, Jules, there's something I want to do first."

When he tried to pull away again I let him, watching with wide eyes as he lowered himself to one knee.

"Zayn…" I said quietly, my breathing picking up a bit.

"I've been waiting to do this, and I guess now is just as good a time as any," he smiled. "We didn't really meet in the most conventional of ways, and I know we've only known each other for a few months, but you mean so much to me, Jules. I see myself falling for you more and more every day. Just being around you makes me feel like the luckiest man around, and I would love to spend the rest of my life doing whatever it takes to make you happy. So…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out the little square box, opening it to reveal a beautifully simple ring. "Julietta Payne, will you marry me?"

I knew it was coming, but a tiny squeak still managed to escape. "Was that box in your pocket this whole time?"

Zayn rolled his eyes. "Jules."

I pouted. "And here I was thinking you were happy to see me."

" _Jules._ "

I smiled brightly. " _Of course_ I'll marry you, you big sap."

Zayn seemed to release the breath he was holding, taking my left hand and sliding the ring onto my finger. It looked nice there.

We smiled at each other dopily before I leaned down to kiss him again. It wasn't as urgent as the previous kisses. It was slower, sweeter, as if the two of us were content to do just this for the rest of the night.

It was nice, but I had other things on my mind.

I pulled him up so that he was hovering over me, whispering in his ear how much I would love to screw my fiancé, and he grinned sinfully before our kisses turned heated.

 

***

 

Zayn hadn't stopped drumming his fingers against the steering wheel the entire drive to Nan's house. I reached over to grab his hand, hoping to calm his nerves with a soft smile. I’d never seen him so nervous before.

“Everything’s gonna be fine,” I said, not sure who I was convincing.

He sighed, rubbing his thumb across the back of my hand. “It’s just…I'm meeting your _family_ , Jules. I know they mean a lot to you, and I don’t want to screw this up.”

Aw, that was sweet. “You won't screw this up, Zayn. You met Nan at the wedding, and she adores you. As long as she's happy, you really don’t have anything to worry about.”

He bit his lip, absentmindedly twisting my engagement ring around on my finger. "Is Soph gonna be there?"

I nodded. "She usually is."

He nodded to himself. "Good. She likes me, I think."

I chuckled. "I promise, Zayn, you're worrying yourself over nothing. They're going to love you."

He glanced over at me, expression still uncertain. "You think so?"

I squeezed his hand. "Of course."

We pulled in front of Nan's house, and I grabbed the box of pastries as I exited the car. It was a Payne family rule to never come to anyone's dinner empty handed, and the bakery a few doors down from my apartment gave me cannoli for free. If my family thought I made them myself, then they didn't need to know any better.

Zayn seemed to be pretty calm as he walked next to me, and I shoved the box of cannoli into his hands before the door burst open. As expected, Aunt Renna came barreling out and pulled me into a tight hug.

"It's so good to see you, Julietta," she said, kissing me on the mouth. "It's been so long."

I chuckled nervously, wrangling myself out of her grip. I stepped back to push Zayn forward. "Aunt Renna, this is Zayn. Zayn, this is my aunt, Renna."

She pulled him into a hug as well, and Zayn glanced over his shoulder at me in alarm. I shrugged, not feeling sorry for him in the least. I loved Aunt Renna, really, but she could be a little much sometimes.

She welcomed us both into the house after she let us go, and I instantly heard the loud voices of my family participating in a heated discussion. They probably weren't even talking about anything serious, just loudly discussing the weather.

Which was why it was so noticeable when the room grew quiet the minute Zayn and I walked in.

My father, that fake motherfucker, smiled widely and opened his arms. "Jules! I'm so glad you could make it! And you brought Mr. Malik!"

I narrowed my eyes at him before shifting my eyes around. Nan had been in the middle of setting the table, and she paused with the dish in the air and a knowing smile on her face that was kind of creepy. Soph was staring at me with slits for eyes, and I knew I was gonna get it later. Everyone else just looked…shocked. It was no secret who Zayn was.

I cleared my throat. "Everyone, this is Zayn. Zayn, this is my family."

Zayn nodded tightly, the discomfort clear on his face. "It's a pleasure to meet you all."

They all just stared blankly and I wished to God that I had some relatives who could at least _pretend_ to be civil. They were looking at him like he was some fucking alien.

Then Soph smiled and I knew she was my best friend for a reason. "It's nice to see you again, Zayn."

He nodded thankfully at her. That move seemed to snap some sense into them, and they all resumed what they were doing before we got here. Except for Nan, who continued to send me that weird smile. And Harry, who was fuming quietly in the corner. I wasn't sure what the fuck his problem was.

I could practically feel Soph glaring a whole through the side of my head, so I sat Zayn down on the empty couch and decided I better get it over with now.

She didn't say anything at first, grabbing my wrist and pulling me along as she dragged me up the stairs. She didn't bother with a room, just planting us in the corner of the hallway.

Then she punched my tit.

"Ow!" I exclaimed.

She punched me again. "What the fuck are you thinking, bringing him here?"

My eyes widened. "I thought you liked him!"

"I do!" she yelled. "But you're trying to get him killed!"

I scoffed. "I'm pretty sure I said the exact same thing to you a month ago."

She ignored me. "Did you see the look on Nic's face? That fucking passive aggressive smile, my God."

I scrubbed a hand over my forehead. "It was his idea that I bring Zayn in the first place."

Soph blinked. Then she shook her head and held her hands up, stepping away from me. "You know what? For once I'm going to stay out of this. I'm going to take my nosy ass back downstairs and I'm gonna let you work this shit out on your own. Tell me about the specifics later."

She walked down the stairs and I stared at her in disbelief. All of this was too much to wrap my head around myself, and I didn't blame her for not understanding. What surprised me was witnessing her willingly decide to stay out of my business. That was enough to stun me into silence all on its own.

I followed her down, and checked to make sure Zayn was where I left him. My cousin, Michael, was sitting next to him, flipping through a sketchbook that was filled with graffiti. I smiled at how Zayn was nodding along to everything he was saying, showing genuine excitement. Michael was really good at that stuff, too, and he had always been a little shy. It was nice seeing him open up to Zayn like that.

I sat down next to him, leaning over to look at Michael’s sketches (it wasn’t just graffiti, but buildings and people and landmarks). Uncle Dom called Michael away after he'd flipped through 2/3 of the book, and Zayn turned to me when we were alone on the couch.

“He's really good,” he said. “I saw him drawing and told him that, and he started showing me the rest of them.”

I smiled. “He must really like you, he doesn’t just show his sketchbook to anybody.”

Zayn let out a tiny proud smile and I wanted to grab his face and kiss him. If it wasn’t for my father (who was leering at us from the other side of the room) I would have.

My family gave the two of us a wide berth for the most part, letting us talk while they stared and whispered to each other. Harry was nowhere to be seen, and I briefly wondered if I should be worried. Only briefly, because my father and Luke were still in the room, so whatever it was was probably a personal issue. For all I know he could be in the bathroom. Soph made a deliberate point of dropping down right beside him, dragging Liam down with her. I hadn't even noticed that Liam and Zayn weren't involved in the conversation anymore until I heard Liam giving Zayn the third degree, and I had to stop that shit real quick.

“Liam, please, cool it with all the questions,” I said.

He widened his eyes in faux innocence. “What? The guy’s dating my baby sister, I think I have the right to know a few things about him.”

I made a noise, rolling my eyes at him. Liam always spouted that baby sister crap whenever there was something he thought I shouldn’t be doing. In this case, that something is Zayn.

Thankfully, the women in the kitchen called that dinner was ready, and I was quick to hop up from the couch with Zayn in tow. Every seat was taken in the dining room (it seemed like the whole family was here today, and I suspected that was some of my father’s doing), so we kicked the small group of children out to the kitchen. Even then, we still had to pull up a few chairs.

“Who's going to say grace?” Nan asked, staring into each of our eyes in hopes that one of us would crack.

Maria, Soph's mom, cleared her throat, cutting her eyes to Zayn.

Nan arched her brow. “You think Julie’s boyfriend should say grace? He's new, that would be rude.”

Maria sighed. “No, I don’t think it’d be right considering his…religion.”

Everyone’s eyes shifted down to their empty plates and I smacked my hand against my face.

It was Zayn's turn to clear his throat. “It’s fine, really. I don’t want to change the tradition around here.”

“Yeah, because you two are all about tradition,” Daddy mumbled under his breath, and I'm sure it was meant for everyone to hear.

“ _I’ll_ say grace,” I said through gritted teeth because this was fucking ridiculous, and I’m hungry.

I kept it short and sweet, and in a matter of seconds we were all passing around the tray of roast beef (in the middle of summer, Nan was trying to kill us all) and chattering loudly. I saw Harry across the table sitting next to my dad, the two of them whispering conspiratorially to each other. I decided that, with everything else that was plaguing my thoughts, I was gonna have to put figuring out what the hell was wrong with him on the backburner. I didn’t need that extra stress.

“So Zayn,” Aunt Renna started in her thick accent. “How long have you and Julie been seeing each other?”

He made a face as he counted the months. “We met at the end of April, so about three months?” He looked at me for confirmation and I nodded; that sounded about right.

Aunt Renna smiled. “Well, I think you two make a gorgeous couple. I'm so happy that our Julie has finally found someone.”

The rest of the women hummed in agreement, and I blushed. They all acted like I spray boy repellant on myself everyday just to spite them. It’s not like I _asked_ to be single for so long.

They continued to ask him questions about the two of us, my aunt, Maria, and Nan, much like Liam had but not as invasive. No, I take that back. They were invasive as hell, but Zayn didn’t mind answering because they were little old ladies who asked sweetly.

Zayn had just finished answering a question on whether we were going to have children or not (guess who asked that one? I’ll tell you—it was Nan), my father cleared his throat.

“It’s nice to see everyone getting along with Zayn so nicely,” Daddy said and I could see how much it was killing him to actually call Zayn by his name. “But Julie has a reason for bringing him, and she's got something she wants to tell you all.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, not even surprised that he put me on the spot like that. I sighed, glancing around at my family’s expectant faces. I nervously looked to Zayn and he grabbed my hand under the table, giving me a reassuring smile. Soph’s eyes had zeroed in on my left hand, I knew she’d figure it out before I even open my mouth.

I took a deep breath. Quick and simple, like ripping off a band-aid. “Zayn and I are getting married.”

The women’s mouths dropped open. A few forks slid out of their fingers and clanked noisily against their plates. Luke sat completely blanked-face, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew. Soph was giving me a look that said she knew this was coming, but was extremely upset that I still hadn't told her beforehand, and Liam just look stunned and confused. Harry was furious from his spot beside my father.

“Married?” Maria asked, breaking the silence. “Like a legally-binding, honest-to-god marriage?”

I nodded.

Nan started crying.

“How soon?” Aunt Renna asked.

“We have two months,” I answered.

The women gasped and Nan blew her nose into her napkin.

“That’s impossible!” Maria exclaimed. “We can't plan a wedding in two months—” She cut herself off with a sharp gasp. “You're pregnant, aren't you?”

Everyone turned to stare at me, and Nan clutched the napkin hopefully.

I blanched. “God, no. We just want to be married as soon as possible. We…really love each other.”

“Well, shoot,” Liam grumbled, and we all turned to face him. “This sure beats our big announcement.” He paused so we could stare at him expectantly. “Sophie’s pregnant.”

“Surprise!” Soph said feebly, looking like she wanted to castrate Liam.

Nan let out a loud wail, the tears coming down twice as hard.

The dinner table was in complete shock, no one really sure what piece of big news to focus on. Eventually, they all settled on congratulating the both of us, picking up where we left off by shoveling food into their mouths.

“Wait!” Harry said, holding his hands up. “Doesn’t this all seem to be moving a little too quickly to any of you? Zayn and Jules have only known each other for _three months_ and they're getting _married_? Soph and Liam have barely been married _one month_ and she's already pregnant? It doesn’t seem right.”

“ _Sta ta zee_!” Nan shouted viciously at him, waving her fist. She stood from her seat to walk around the table to me. “My Julie is finally getting married.” She grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me square on the mouth. “I thought she was going to die an old maid, but God has heard my prayers. And she's marrying such a handsome man!” She let go of me to kiss Zayn on the mouth as well. “I'm getting the great-grandchild that I deserve—” She tried to plant a kiss on Soph but she pushed her away, “—and I'm not going to let you ruin that, Harry. They are both happy, and that’s cause enough for celebration.”

Harry huffed, sinking back in his chair. I was surprised at how Nan defended us, but I _was_ extremely happy. Zayn and I were getting _married_ and my family loved him. Judging by the smile he could barely contain and the gentle squeeze he gave my hand, I could tell he felt the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saturday's update is the last of my pre-written chapters and since I'm in school I haven't had the chance to write much. I'll try my hardest to get the newest one out at a decent time, but it'll just be one chapter instead of two.
> 
> (And don't forget to check out the AA [blog](http://aboveall-fic.tumblr.com) for the term glossary and any other references)


	18. Meet the Maliks

**Zayn POV**

I shifted my gaze from the wheel to Jules, who was wearing a soft smile as she stared at the ring on her hand in front of her.

“Did I do good?” I asked, because I had actually been a little nervous whether or not she’d like it.

She turned to me, her smile widening. “You did. I love it. Soph relayed to me—rather bitterly—that my diamond was bigger than hers.”

I chuckled, feeling much more relieved. “The dinner went pretty well, I think.”

“I think so, too. I was surprised at how Nan reacted, but honestly, I could've announced I was going to marry a cactus and she would've been happy about it.”

“Or maybe she's just really happy for the both of us,” I said, pulling up in front of Jules’ apartment.

She paused to think about it before she shook her head. “Nah. Nan has been trying to marry me off for years.”

“You're only twenty-one,” I pointed out.

“I stand by my statement.”

I chuckled, shutting the car off. I rested my hand on the small of her back as she fished around for her keys. We were silent as we walked the flight of stairs to her floor, and I was hit by a feeling of domesticity as Jules threw her keys on the table and I kicked my shoes off. It wasn't a bad feeling.

Neither of us were really tired, so we cuddled up on the couch in front of the TV. She insisted we watch the episode of _Big Brother_ she missed while we were at the dinner. I'd learned that my fiancé had a slight obsession with reality television, and the fact that she went through the trouble of recording it on the DVR was proof. I really didn't care what we watched, and I didn't mind indulging her a bit.

"When am I gonna meet your parents?" Jules asked during a commercial break, turning her head from where it rested against my chest so she could see my face.

I shrugged. "What are you doing tomorrow? I'd probably have to call and warn them ahead of time, but we could do it whenever."

Jules' eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, no, not tomorrow! I was thinking more like next week."

I chuckled. "That works, too. That gives my mom more time to prepare."

"Does she know about this?" Jules was staring at her hand now, nervously twisting her ring around her finger.

"She knows I'm seeing someone." I grabbed her chin lightly so she was looking at me. "She's going to love you, Jules, really. And as long as I'm happy, she's happy."

"Your dad hates me," Jules said quietly.

"He doesn't hate you."

"He sure as hell doesn't like me."

I shrugged. "Your dad doesn't like me, either. They’ll have something to bond over at the rehearsal dinner.”

Jules rolled her eyes. “I don’t even want to _think_ about how disastrous that dinner will be. In fact, let’s not even have a rehearsal dinner. We only have two months to plan; we’ll just wing the whole wedding and hope for the best.”

“I hope you're just kidding around.”

“Not really. We can still have the dinner, but I say we cut all that other stuff out,” she said. “Engagement party? Gone. Bridal shower? Nope, don’t need it.”

“Bachelor party?” I interrupted hopefully.

“ _Definitely_ not.”

I pouted. “Will we even be able to have a honeymoon?”

“Of course,” Jules said as if it was common sense. “Anything after the wedding is fair game.”

I smirked, pulling her closer and burying my face in her neck. “Good. I'm more excited about seeing you reclining on a private island in a bathing suit more than the actual wedding.”

“Mmm...”

I lifted my head. “What does that sound mean?”

Jules made a face. “Does it have to be an _island_?”

I shrugged. “I can settle for a nice resort.”

She made another face.

I sighed. “What did you have in mind, then?”

She bit her lip. “No, you'll laugh if I tell you.”

My face deadpanned. “Jules.”

“I was kind of thinking we could go to Disneyworld.”

I blinked. “Disneyworld?”

She nodded, still chewing on her lip. “Yeah. Couples honeymoon there all the time and I've always wanted to go.”

“Disneyworld.”

“C’mon, Zayn, you're not even considering it.”

“How have you never been to Disneyworld? You mean to tell me the biggest mobster in New York doesn’t have time to take his kids to the happiest place on earth?”

Jules shifted around uncomfortably. “It was something my mom talked about doing all the time. She loved that kind of stuff.”

It was quiet for a few beats. What she’d said brought something I’d been wondering for a while to the forefront of my mind. “Jules, can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

She nodded slowly, rearranging herself so we were facing each other.

“What happened to your mother? I’ve never heard you mention her before.”

Jules looked down at the hands in her lap. “She died when I was eleven.”

I had a hunch that was what had happened, but my stomach sunk when she confirmed it. I tucked her head under my chin. “I'm so sorry, Jules.”

She sucked in a shaky breath. “It’s alright. It’s been ten years, I'm trying to get over it.”

“You never get over the death of a loved one, Jules. You just learn to cope with their absence.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said quietly.

I nodded, kissing the top of her head. “Do you want to go to bed? It’s gotten pretty late.”

She nodded, and we turned off the TV before walking back to her room. She stopped in the bathroom to wash off her makeup, and I took the time to pull some sweats out of my duffle bag. I was in the bed when she came back in pajamas with her hair twisted up. I pulled back the blankets so she could slide in next to me.

She was on her side, facing me, and I grabbed her left hand. I pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “For the record, I’d love to go to Disneyworld with you.”

Jules smiled, something soft and vulnerable. She stretched up to kiss me lightly before rolling over. “Goodnight, Zayn.”

I sighed contently, wrapping my arms around her.

 

***

 

I woke up earlier than Jules did, letting her sleep while I got ready for work. I was going to have to call my father sometime while I was there to let him know about the engagement. When we had first mentioned it at the sit-down he seemed rather unconcerned. When it came to my father, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. I was only a little worried; we were getting married regardless of what he thought, but it would be nice having him support me on this.

I was in the shower trying to decide if I should tell my father through a phone call or in person when the shower curtain was pulled back, Jules poking her head in. “Mind if I join you?”

I smiled, making room for her. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around my waist. "I did. Didn't like waking up without my fiancé next to me, though."

"Is that the reason behind this?" I gestured towards her naked form.

"Am I not allowed to share a shower with my fiancé before he goes off to work?"

"You like saying that, don't you?"

"Mmm, I do," Jules smiled, kissing my collarbone. "My fiancé, Zayn Malik."

I laughed lightly at her, pulling her close to kiss her properly. I jumped when I felt her hand wrap around my dick.

"You're going to make me late for work," I said against her lips when she started stroking me.

"You're the boss," she replied, unyielding with her movements. "You're not late, everyone else is just early."

"...Did you just quote _The Princess Diaries_?"

"It makes me very happy that you know where that's from."

"I have three sisters," I said in between kisses. I slid my hand down so I could stroke her clit and she gasped into my mouth. "Of course I can quote _The Princess Diaries—_ "

"Please stop talking," Jules cut me off, moving her hips against my hand so she could get more friction.

"Hey, that's my line."

She groaned loudly. " _Zayn._ "

I chuckled, slowly sinking my fingers inside of her. Jules sighed happily, gripping her hands on my shoulders. I backed her against the shower wall, lifting her leg up so her knee was almost touching her chest.

The change in angle made her throw her head back and cry out. I was transfixed on the sight of my fingers trusting in and out of her, and I raised my head to study her face.

"Do you wanna come like this?" I asked, noticing how tight she was clenching around me.

She furiously shook her head. "No, please, want you inside me," she breathed out.

I bit my lip. "I don't have a condom."

"Just pull out, Zayn, _please._ "

I really couldn't resist her when she begged so sweetly like that. I lifted her up a little more so she was supported against the wall, one of her ankles hooked around my calf. I grabbed the back of her head and captured her lips with mine, pushing into her with one swift movement.

I paused for her sake, her tiny whimpers filling my ears. I had to take a few seconds for myself, too; we rarely ever fucked without a condom and it was going to be over really soon if I didn’t slow down. I was still trying to get myself under control when I felt Jules scrabbling at my back.

“Move, please.”

I rotated my hips before I pulled back, shallowly thrusting in and out. Just that little bit was driving me crazy, but it wasn’t enough for Jules, who scratched my back and urged me to go faster. Once I started I couldn’t stop, and I was fucking plowing Jules into the shower wall. I think she hit her head a few times, but we were both so far gone that it didn’t even matter. Jules was moaning so loud it echoed off the walls, and shit, I was right up there with her.

Her breathing started to pick up when she was close, so I threaded my fingers through her wet hair and gave it a hard tug. “You’re such a fucking tease, do you know that?” I grit out.

Her eyes squeezed closed and she tried to meet my thrusts, which was hard to do given our position.

“I’m gonna be late to work and all the guys are gonna know that it was because I was _fucking_ my fiancé.” I gave her a particularly hard thrust.

“Oh, God, Zayn _please_.”

I pulled on her hair. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“It feels so good, Zayn, so fucking good!” she shouted, her hands coming up to grab her tits and keep them from bouncing around.

“I shouldn’t let you come,” I told her, moving so fast and so hard I was certain she’d bust right through the shower tiles. “Since you made me late and all. Should make you wait until I got home, maybe stay a little later.”

Jules whimpered, and I didn’t realize until a few seconds later that she was pinching her nipples hard between her fingers.

_Christ._

"You gonna come for me? Be a good girl so I can make it to work on time?" I lowered my head to bite her neck, sucking so it left a mark.

Jules let out a high shriek and fell apart around me. My teeth sunk lower into the junction between her neck and shoulder, pulling out just in time as I came all over her stomach. Jules was still letting out soft mewls as we came back down, clutching onto my shoulders so hard it was beginning to become painful. I gently turned her around so the water could wash away the mess on her stomach. She sighed, sounding so spent with just that one little sound, and slumped against me.

I helped Jules wash up, running the cloth over myself a second time, and we spent a few minutes lazily kissing each other with roaming hands. We got out once our fingertips turned pruny, Jules toweling off quicker than me. She went to go sit on the bed in a t-shirt of mine and nothing else, watching me get ready.

I walked over to her to give her a quick kiss before I left, Jules placing a hand on my chest to stop me.

"If the guys give you shit about being late, you better tell them this was much more important and totally worth it," she said with a smirk.

I smirked back at her, leaning in for another longer kiss. "I'll see you when I get home. Try not to get into too much trouble."

She smiled sweetly. "No promises."

I chuckled and shook my head. She looked so enticing sitting on the bed in my shirt, with that grin on her face; I was tempted to just call in sick and spend the whole day with her.

I sighed, walking through the front door. I had a lot of shit to get done today, and as much as I would love to spend the day lazing around with Jules, I had other priorities.

I wasn't going straight to Midnight. With Nic agreeing to the marriage last night—despite how begrudging it may have been—I had to make sure _my_ father was on board with it. I couldn't gauge his reaction at the sit-down, so I wasn't sure if he'd be opposed to it or not. Either way, I'd tell him the same thing I told Nic—I'm marrying Jules whether he liked it or not.

My dad was a very unorthodox businessman. The number one rule about this thing of ours was that you keep your personal life and your work life separate. That being said, my father worked from home. In his defense though, he had two homes: the one I was raised in, where my mother waited obliviously while she thought my father worked some desk job, and an apartment he'd turned into a home office out in Manhattan. He was real sloppy with his shit, though—he refused to conduct business out of some petty building like a dry cleaners, especially after all that shit that happened a few years ago when the Feds were hot on our asses, but something as personal as an apartment had to be clocked like a bitch. I hated coming there for anything just out of pure paranoia.

I pushed that feeling aside, because this was something that I really needed to do, if not for me, then for Jules. I hated seeing her beat herself up over the fact that neither of our parents were really on board with this, and I was going to put an end to that today.

I waved at the two undercover officers having coffee at the restaurant across the street. Fucking pigs weren't even trying to hide it. They smiled and waved back. I smiled and flipped them off.

I didn't bother knocking on the apartment door, using the spare key to let myself in. It was set up just like an apartment, with a couch and television in the living room, and food in the fridge. He even had a bed in one of the bedrooms. The first time I saw this place I nearly shot him in the leg, thinking he was cheating on my mother. He swore up and down that it was just for him to conduct business, but I still checked on him periodically to make sure he wasn't fucking around.

I hadn't been here in a few months, but it had apparently turned into the hangout for all the old guys who weren't doing shit. Two guys were sitting on the couch drinking a beer when I walked in.

“Look who finally decided to show his face!” one of them hollered, getting up to thump me on the back. I couldn't even remember the old fuck's name.

“Where the fuck you been, _larhka_?” the other one, Sameer, asked, thinking he was funny.

I forced out a laugh for his sake, because I really didn't feel like starting anything today. “I'm twenty-four, Sameer. I'm a grown ass man.”

He laughed, clapping me on my shoulder. “Lighten up, you know I'm just fuckin' around!”

I shrugged his hand off as subtly as I could. “Is my father back there?” I didn't wait for their response, leaving those old coots out there as I quickly walked towards the office. It didn't sound like he had anyone in there, but I knocked just to be sure.

“Come in.”

I pushed the door open, sticking my head in. My father was counting a fat stack of bills, a cigar hanging out of his mouth. He didn't bother looking up when I entered so I cleared my throat to get his attention. His brows raised when he saw me.

“ _Baita_ ,” he said around his cigar, with what was his attempt at a warm smile. I knew my father, and knew it was as fake as his two henchman out in the living room. “What a nice surprise.”

I refrained from rolling my eyes. He gestured for me to have a seat and I obliged.

“To what do I owe the visit?” he asked, taking the cigar out. “What's today, Monday? Don't you have a nightclub to run?”

This time I did roll my eyes. “Yes, Baba, a _night_ club. There's not much to do on a Monday morning.”

He nodded, taking a puff from his cigar. “Well, you only come to visit me these days to badger me about something you want, so get on with it.”

Anger flared at his words, but I decided to take a deep breath and let his words roll off my shoulders. My father wasn't known for his sensitivity. “I came to talk to you about Jules and the proposal.” I paused, giving him a chance to butt in, but he motioned for me to continue. “We're getting married in two months.”

He arched one brow. “Why the long wait?”

“Baba _,_ can you be serious for a moment, please?” I asked, my irritation growing. He was acting like a child. “I really do like Jules; family and all that sentimental shit mean a lot to her. She really wants you to like her.”

My father leaned back in his chair. “What do you want from me? You think I'm going to give you my blessing?”

“I want us to have an adult conversation about my upcoming wedding.”

He finally put out that damned cigar. “I'm not happy about this. I'd rather you settle down with a nice Muslim girl to carry on my legacy.” The fucking bastard opened the box on his desk and pulled out another one. “But this Jules, she seems to make you happy. I guess that's all a father can want for his son.”

I sighed, relieved and a little put out that it was this easy. I had prepared for a big fall out. “I know you don't like Nico and his crew, but you're going to be seeing a lot of him over the next few weeks, so can you try to play nice?” Jules would kill me if our fathers ended up pulling out their glocks and shooting each other at the wedding.

He blew out a breath, a cloud of smoke billowing out with it. “I won't make any promises. I don't trust Nicolas as far as I can throw him...but this relationship you have with his daughter may prove to work in our advantage. I'll try.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, not liking the way that sounded. I shook it off—I had time to figure out my father's schemes later. “She wants to meet you all. I met her family yesterday and she told me that she wanted to meet mine.”

“Your mother is going to be beside herself.”

I chuckled. “It's not Ammi I'm worried about—it's Doniya and Waliyha. They'll tear Jules apart.”

My father waved a hand dismissively. “They'll get over themselves. Get Ant to watch the club, bring her by tonight.”

I looked over at him in shock. “Tonight?”

He nodded, going back to his stack of bills. “Yes, you only have two months left. Might as well get it over with.”

I got up, taking that as my cue to leave. I was almost to the door when I heard my father call out to me.

“ _Baita_?”

I stopped, not turning around.

“Be sure that this is what you want,” he said. I waited for him to say more, but was met with the sound of fingers ruffling through paper bills.

I left without a word, trying to shake my father's hauntingly cryptic words.

 

***

 

“Do you think I made the right choice bringing cannoli? Maybe I should've stuck to a more traditional desert, like a turnover or something. Maybe a nice cobbler. I don't want it to be too much of a culture shock, y'know?”

I chuckled. “Jules, you're walking into a Pakistani household completely unprepared. If anything it'll be a culture shock to _you_.”

She looked at me with alarming eyes. “I'll be okay, right? The food's not gonna, like, kill me is it?”

I looked at her with sympathy. “No, but it might upset your stomach for a few days. I'll try and point you towards the milder stuff.”

Jules nodded, keeping quiet as we walked up the stoop. I could see her chewing her lip to pieces, so I stopped us before I had a chance to ring the doorbell.

“You're worrying,” I told her. “It's going to be fine. They're going to love you, Jules.”

Her bottom lip jutted out a little. “You really think so?”

I smiled, thumping her chin lightly. “Of course. You brought them sweets, you won't be able to get rid of them.”

She smiled and I leaned down to give her a quick kiss. When I straightened up I saw my youngest sister standing in the doorway with a little smirk on her face.

“Ammi!” she yelled. “Zayn's here!”

I could hear my mother chiding her in Urdu as she rushed to the door. “Safaa, what have I told you about opening the door for strangers?”

“But Ammi, it was _Zayn_ ,” she reasoned, stepping aside so my mother could greet us.

She smiled warmly at us, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel before pulling me into a hug. She kissed my cheek when she let me go, and without missing a beat, grabbed Jules to pull her into a hug as well. I chuckled at her surprised expression, struggling to manage the plate of cannoli with Ammi's arms around her.

"It's so nice to meet you!" Ammi said, pulling away and holding Jules at arm's length. "She's so pretty, Zayn!"

Jules blushed, smiling back. "Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Malik."

She waved a hand. "Oh, please, call me Trisha. Or Ammi, everyone else does."

Jules looked at me for confirmation, and I just smiled and nodded. “Alright. Nice to meet you, Ammi.”

“Come on inside,” she said, moving aside so we could slide through the door. “We’ve missed you, _chota chaand_ ; your sisters are going to be so happy to see you.”

I felt my face heat at the old pet name, but started to sweat when my mother mentioned my sisters. They were fiercely protective of me, and even though Doniya was the only one older than me, they all treated me like I was the baby of the family (even Safaa, who _was_ the youngest). Their opinion of Jules mattered more to me than anything.

I motioned for Jules to enter ahead of me, making a funny face at Safaa, who was hiding behind Ammi. She made one back before falling into step beside Jules.

“I'm Safaa,” she told her with a friendly smile.

Jules smiled back. “Nice to meet you, Safaa. I'm Julie.”

“Your hair is very pretty,” Safaa said, still smiling.

Jules’ hair _was_ pretty; she had it in a fancy braided bun, and I’d told her she looked like the chick from _Frozen_ when I saw it. She had laughed and threw a hairtie at me.

“Thank you,” Jules replied. Ammi and I watched the two of them with an amused smile. “I could do yours like this if you want, it’s definitely long enough.”

Safaa’s face brightened and I knew Jules had won her over. “Really? Right now?”

She shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

“Saf, let her get settled first, okay?” Ammi interjected, trying to keep my sister from latching onto Jules’ hip.

She deflated a little, but a look of determination crossed her features. “Okay, but that means you have to meet the others so we can do my hair before dinner.” She grabbed Jules’ hand, tugging her along towards the living room. Jules shot me a victorious look over her shoulder, happy she’d made a friend.

Ammi laughed when the two of them were out of sight. “That poor girl is never going to shake her off now.”

I nodded, smiling. “Jules was so nervous about meeting you guys, I think she's just happy someone likes her.”

“She seems like a very sweet girl, especially if Safaa latched on like that.”

I scratched my forehead. “It’s not Safaa I'm worried about.”

Ammi hummed sympathetically, rubbing my arm. We rounded the corner to the living room, Safaa taking it upon herself to introduce Jules to my other two sisters. I studied their expressions, noticing that their smiles didn’t look _too_ forced. This dinner might not be as disastrous as I feared.

Ammi sent Safaa to get my father from his study, and announced that dinner would be ready in about twenty minutes. Jules saw the look on Safaa’s face and assured her that it was enough time for her to braid her hair. That seemed to satisfy her, and she went to grab my father without complaint.

We all sat down in the living room while we waited, Doniya, Waliyha, and I on the couch, while Ammi and Jules sat in two chairs across the room. They must’ve been talking about the engagement, because I saw Jules show her the ring and watched as my mother’s face lit up. She held on to Jules’ hand for the rest of the conversation.

“She’s pretty,” Doniya said in Urdu, leaning closer to me. “And Safaa seems to like her.”

I turned to her, unable to decipher the tone of her voice. “What do you think?” I replied back in Urdu.

She shrugged. “I just met her. I don’t think anything.” Her eyes flickered back over to Jules and Ammi. “You two are getting married?”

I nodded. “She really wanted to meet you guys. Please try to go easy on her, she worked herself up the whole way here.”

Waliyha leaned over, joining the conversation. “She said her last name was Payne. Where do I know that name from?”

I sighed. Unlike my mother, who my father had convinced he was working a simple desk job, my sisters knew the true extent of his business. They didn’t get involved, but they were familiar with the lifestyle and the people.

“She's Nicolas Payne’s daughter,” I answered reluctantly.

Understanding flashed over both my sisters’ faces and I could see them instantly closing off. They looked back to Jules with narrowed eyes.

“Nicolas Payne?” Waliyha hissed. “I thought Baba hated him.”

“Why are you marrying his daughter?” Doniya asked, staring daggers at Jules.

“What does she have over you? She must be pregnant.”

“I don’t like this. I don’t trust her.”

“I can't believe you knocked up a white girl, Zayn, I thought we taught you better than this.”

“ _I_ can. He's never been the smartest in the bunch—”

“ _Enough_!” I said through gritted teeth. “She's not pregnant and she isn't blackmailing me. I'm marrying her because I _love_ her.”

There was a beat of silence before they both burst into laughter. Jules and Ammi paused their conversation to shoot us a questioning glance. Jules caught my eye, probably noticing my exasperated expression. She mouthed, “You okay?” and I shook my head to let her know it was nothing she had to worry about.

“Oh, _Zayn_ ,” Doniya said, practically wiping a tear from her eye. “You don’t fall in love. You fuck pretty girls and then move on.”

“Hey!” I said, covering Waliyha’s ears. She made a noise before she threw my hands off. 

“Fuck off, Zayn,” Wali replied, just to mess with me.

I frowned, crossing my arms. “You two better be nice to her, okay? She’s nervous enough as it is and she doesn’t need you pouncing on her.” Both of my sisters’ expressions were petulant, but I knew they'd come around. It was hard not to like Jules.

I heard Safaa’s chattering voice as she descended the stairs and I knew my father was close behind. The room seemed to quiet as he entered, and Jules immediately hopped out of her seat, her instincts from being a mob boss’ daughter kicking in. Even though she was wringing her hands and chewing on her lip, I still thought she looked adorable.

My father came over to her, and held out his hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Payne.”

She nodded jerkily, shaking his hand for a bit too long. She swallowed thickly before she spoke, “It’s nice to see you, too, Mr. Malik.”

Baba waved his hand when he let go. “We’re going to be in-laws soon—Yaser is fine.”

Jules smiled tentatively. “You have a lovely home, Yaser. And I like Jules.”

He smiled back at her and I felt my chest loosen. “Thank you, Jules.” He turned to my mother, and Jules glanced over at me looking like she’d just passed the hardest test of her life. “Is dinner almost ready, _meri jaan_?”

She smiled, as she always did every time he called her that, and nodded. “Wali, Don? Come help me set the table.” She gave them each a stern look as she stood up, which suggested that our previous conversation wasn’t as quiet as we’d thought.

Once they'd left the room I motioned for Jules to come sit next to me, and she nearly ran over. I rubbed her arm reassuringly, not having time to say any words of comfort before Safaa sat down in front of her, handing her a wide comb.

I let the two of them bond, feeling my father’s gaze on the side of my face. When I looked up he nodded at me subtly, and I was finally able to relax. If my father gave Jules the seal of approval, then we were going to be just fine.

 

***

 

Jules held her stomach as we drove home, her eyes glazed over slightly. “I should've worn a looser dress,” she complained.

I laughed at her pained expression. “No one told you to eat three full plates of _biryani_ , Jules.”

She turned her pained look on me. “But it was _so good_. And your mom just kept offering me more and I felt bad turning her down.”

“Even I can't eat that much rice and chicken. I could see my sisters wondering where you put it all.”

She grunted. “To be honest, I'm kind of wondering that myself.”

I took a hand off the steering wheel and grabbed hers, grazing my thumb over her engagement ring. “You were great, by the way. My father gave his nod of approval before we sat down for dinner. Wali and Don warmed up to you after your second plate, I think.”

She hummed, closing her eyes. “Your mom liked me.”

“My mother _adores_ you,” I corrected, squeezing her hand. “Safaa does, too.”

It was a few beats before she replied. “They're very sweet. Your family dinners are much nicer than mine. Not as much fist-shaking and yelling in another language.”

I shrugged, forgetting her eyes were closed. “It’s smaller than yours. You guys kind of invite the whole neighborhood over to your Sunday dinners.”

She hummed again. “That is very true. Maybe I’ll tell Nan to downsize the guest list and see if we can make it through a dinner like civilized people.”

I chuckled, pulling up in front of her apartment building. I felt her keys land in my lap before I opened the door.

“Carry me inside?” she asked, her eyes open now and pouting at me. “I don’t think I can move.”

I smiled. “Of course, _jaan_.”

I grabbed her keys in one hand, coming around to the other side to scoop her up. She wound her arms around my neck, curling into me. I didn’t set her down as we waited the few seconds it took for the elevator to reach her floor. She hadn’t said anything else while I deftly unlocked the door and carried her to the bedroom, so I thought she’d fallen asleep. I set her on the bed and left to use the bathroom. When I came back, though, she had changed into a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, using a wipe to get her makeup off.

“All that food is gonna fuck my stomach up later, isn't it?” she asked.

I nodded sadly. “If it helps, that’s the effect overeating _anything_ can have, whether it’s ethnic food or not.”

She sighed, getting up to throw the wipe away. “I don’t know if we’ve reached the ‘pooping around each other’ stage of our relationship. I don’t know if that makes me uncomfortable or not.”

I laughed, letting her grab my hand and pull me towards the bed. “We’re getting married in two months, Jules. We’re going to be pooping in front of each other for the rest of our lives.”

She made a little sound. “It sounds horrendous when you put it that way.”

I only laughed harder. “It’s time for you to go to bed, Jules.”

Her nose scrunched up, and she gave me a kiss before diving under the covers. I shook my head at her, joining her and pulling her close. I gave her one last goodnight kiss before shutting of her bedside lamp.

“Hey, Zayn?”

We had both been quiet for a while, and I thought she’d fallen asleep again. “Yes, Jules?”

“What does that word you called me earlier mean? I heard your dad say it to your mom a lot tonight. It starts with a _J_.”

I stiffened. “You mean _jaan_?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s just a term of endearment. Like dear or sweetheart.”

“Oh, okay. Well, goodnight, _jaan_.”

I smiled at her, my heart beating a mile a minute inside my chest. I’d let Jules think it was just another pet name, but being someone’s _jaan_ was a pretty big deal. I hadn’t even realized I’d let the word slip. I wanted to blame it on being around my father and hearing him use it all night, but I knew that wasn’t the case. I knew there was a deeper meaning there, and I was surprised at how much that didn’t terrify me.


	19. Operation: Wedding Planning

**Jules POV**

The next few weeks leading up to the wedding were just as hectic and stressful as I was expecting them to be. Before I left Zayn's parent’s house, I slipped Trisha Nan's phone number and address; I knew nothing about planning a wedding, and I sure as shit didn’t know about planning an interfaith wedding. That’s what the Old Wives were calling it, and by Old Wives I meant Nan, Aunt Renna, and Soph's mom, Maria. They had welcomed Trisha into their tight-knit circle and were working diligently every day to make this the biggest and best wedding in New York. I was more than willing to hand the job over, along with a slew of blank checks with my father’s name on them.

We were at my father’s large estate now, surveying the land to see if it was suitable for the wedding reception. The Old Wives had tried to book a hotel, but it was too short notice and all the slots were filled this late in the summer. I then suggested we hold it in my father's backyard. He certainly had the space for it. If my family wasn't so traditional, we could've held the ceremony there if we wanted.

It was a bitch trying to find a Catholic priest who would marry us. Not only was Zayn not Catholic, but in order for the church to even _consider_ marrying a couple they have to be engaged for at least six months, and we just didn't have that kind of time. It wasn't until we made use of that first blank check and gave a very, very generous donation to my childhood church that someone agreed.

The Old Wives were standing on the backyard patio, waving their hands around as they described what would go where. I was in the kitchen with Soph, who was poking at her belly that was just starting to stick out a little.

"What are you guys hoping for?" I asked.

She let out a small smile. "A girl. I'm hoping she'll be more like Liam, though—I was a pain in the ass growing up."

"You're a pain in the ass now," I muttered. She kicked me under the table. "But really, I'm happy for youse. That's gonna be the cutest kid ever."

She smiled wider this time. "I'm happy for you, too. I can't believe you're actually getting married!"

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the big, goofy smile from spreading across my face. “Honestly, I can't believe it either. It’s only a few weeks away now.”

“You know Nan is beside herself, right? I’m surprised she hasn’t collapsed out of disbelief yet.”

I shook my head, stuffing one of the cookies Trisha brought over into my mouth. “Nah, she's not gonna die just yet. She actually has to _see_ me get married first. Nan's not going anywhere until I say ‘I do’.”

Soph motioned for me to pass her a cookie. “I'm surprised you just let her and my mom take over. Planning this wedding is probably what’s keeping her going.” She paused, taking a bite. “Wow, is that cinnamon? This shit is delicious.”

I nodded, reaching for another one. “Zayn's mom made them.”

“Well, tell her how fucking good these are. And see if you can get a recipe, too.”

I laughed at her. “Sure thing.”

The Old Wives came back inside, murmuring amongst themselves. Trisha glanced over at where Soph and I were sitting, excusing herself from the group and walking over to us.

“Mrs. Malik?” Soph started, her mouth full and spitting crumbs everywhere. “These cookies are fantastic.”

She grinned. “Thank you, Sophia. I can give you the recipe if you want? That goes for you, too, Jules; Zayn loves those cookies.”

Soph nearly shot out of her chair to go find a pen and paper while I politely declined. I wasn’t a baker, and would probably end up burning the whole house down.

Trisha took Soph's seat, grabbing my hand across the table. “I know it’s a little last minute, but I had a few new ideas for the reception.”

I smiled. “I don’t mind. At this point I'm putting this wedding in your hands; I trust you.”

“I wanted to bring a few parts of our culture into the celebration, and I was thinking you could wear a bridal _lehenga_ during the reception. You would still wear the white dress during the ceremony at the church, and Zayn would be in a suit."

I squeezed her hand, hoping it helped her relax since she looked a little nervous. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, Trisha." She had talked to me earlier about having the _nikkah_ during the reception, so it seemed fitting that I was dressed appropriately. "I don't know anything about _lehenga_ shopping…" I bit my lip, getting nervous myself, "would you mind coming with me to pick one out?"

Trisha's whole face lit up. "I would love to, Jules."

She even leaned across the table to scoop me in a hug, and I had to blink a few times since I was getting teary-eyed. Planning my wedding, going dress shopping—those were the things I had dreamed of doing with my own mother when I was younger. Having Trisha so willing to help eased the pain of her not being here, but I still missed her.

Trisha and I set up a time to go shopping tomorrow, and I told her to bring Doniya and Waliyha. I wanted them to be in the wedding, too, and maybe going out like this would warm them up to me.

Soph came back in with the pen and paper, and relayed to me that we needed to leave soon to make the dress fitting on time. I wanted to have some connection to my mother on my wedding day, so I was going to be wearing her old wedding dress. Nan was the one who suggested it. I was getting it altered to fit my slightly slimmer form and to make it more modern. It still had a very old-fashioned Catholic bride feel to it, and I was in love with it.

Still feeling a little emotional after thinking about my mother so much today, I invited Trisha to the dress fitting. She was beside herself, looking like she wanted to cry. The Old Wives were all coming, but I think she was just happy I considered her important enough to include her.

Soph smiled at me as Trisha left the kitchen to get her purse from the living room.

"What?" I asked defensively, her goofy smile creeping me out.

"That was nice of you," Soph said, still smiling.

I shrugged. "She's a sweet woman. And she kind of reminds me of my mom."

Soph nodded. "I see it. Are you holding up okay? It must be hard going though this without her."

I looked down, blinking furiously. "It is. But having you, and Nan, and Trisha…it helps. It's not better, but it helps."

Soph rubbed my arm comfortingly before hopping up from her chair. "Alright, no more crying. You'll be doing enough of that on your wedding day. We have a dress fitting to go to."

I nodded, wiping away the stray tear that had escaped before pasting a smile on my face.

 

***

 

I frustratingly went over the guest list for the umpteenth time, glancing back and forth between who was attending and the seating chart I’d created. While I was willing to let the Old Wives plan the wedding with no restrictions, my one exception was the seating chart. We had way too many important people coming to this wedding, from both Zayn's side of the family and mine. And then I had my _other_ family to consider, the couple dozen mobsters who were flying in from Philly, Jersey, Chicago—everyone who was anyone in this thing of ours was going to be there. Not everyone from these big families got along (like the DeGrazzios and the Martellos from Chicago), but they all wanted to be here out of respect to my father. I had to make sure they were placed on opposite sides of the room so we didn’t have a fucking shootout during the father-daughter dance.

Those fuckers, though, they weren’t my main issue. Keeping them apart was easy; they already couldn’t stand each other, so hopefully they wouldn’t make my job any harder. What I kept scratching my head about was Harry-fucking-Stylini. I wasn’t sure where we stood, especially after the whole Frankie Cavello thing. And you know what, I was still mad at that sonofabitch for what he did to me at Soph's wedding. Finding a place to put him was harder than I thought it would be. Initially, I was gonna seat him with Ant and Danny since I figured they would get along pretty well. The other day, though, Zayn had asked me if they could be in the ceremony to walk with Waliyha and Doniya. I was okay with it, and it only required a little bit of tweaking. However, that meant that Ant and Danny now had to sit with the wedding party, nixing my original seating plan. I couldn’t place him with the other wiseguys because…well, they actually didn’t like him all that much. It would make things tense, and it would only be a matter of time before some shit popped off, and I will be _goddamned_ if my wedding was ruined because of a couple of pissyfaced wiseguys who were itching to whip out their nines.

_Anyway…_

I hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten, still drawing up new seating charts (and crossing out every single option because I still hadn’t found a solution) when Zayn walked in. I had given him a key to my apartment a week into the wedding planning. With the wedding now a little over a week away I didn’t have time to keep hopping up at all hours of the night to let him in.

I hadn’t even heard him, startling when he kissed my cheek.

“You still working on that seating chart, babe?” he asked, getting a water bottle from the kitchen. I had explained it all to him the night before, so he understood my dilemma. “You were hunched over that paper when I left this morning.”

I didn’t look up from my chart, chewing on my lip. “Everyone has been placed very carefully and deliberately…except for Harry. I just don’t know what to do with the bastard!”

Zayn leaned over, glancing at my diagram of circles and arrows. “Who’s Enzo?”

“One of my father’s guys, not too high up in the ranks. Why?”

“Move him over to the table with all those other fucks, it doesn’t matter which one, and place Harry in his spot. He’ll be next to Gianno and Zaki. He likes Gianno right?”

My face lit up. “Yes, yes he does!” I furiously began crossing out names and rearranging them according to what Zayn had just suggested. It all worked out perfectly, and I leapt into his lap to kiss him right on the mouth. “Baby, you're a fucking genius, you just saved me from another sleepless night.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he wrapped his arms around me. “Glad I could help. I've felt pretty useless this whole wedding process, like I haven’t done anything at all. I don’t even know what our wedding colors are.”

“That’s because we don’t have any,” I told him, getting comfortable and snuggling into him. “It was too short notice to color-coordinate everything, and I didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding your sisters’ _lehengas_ in the same shade as Soph's maiden of honor dress. I just let them each pick something they liked. And don’t feel bad; this seating chart is the most I've done myself over the past two months.”

Zayn nodded. “It was nice of you to include my sisters. They’ll never admit it, but they're both really excited about being in the ceremony.”

His words eased some of the stress off my shoulders. “We’re going to be family soon, it only seemed right. And I really do like them; I hope this will help them come around to me.”

Zayn pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Give them some time, they're just being stubborn. You guys are gonna be best friends before you know it.”

I gave him a dubious look but said no more on the issue. The time of night was starting to catch up with me and I let out a huge yawn. Now that the seating chart was all straightened away I could rest easy tonight, and Lord knew I needed it.

“You tired?” Zayn asked, and I nodded, burying my head in his shoulder. “Then I guess you won't want to see the gift I bought you…”

Of course, I perked right up, leaning back to see what he was holding up in his hand. They looked like airline tickets, and I had to bring them closer to read it.

“Why do we need plane tickets to Orlando on our wedding night?” I asked. Zayn just gave me an expectant look, and after a few seconds of racking my brain it clicked. “Really?” I squeaked.

Zayn laughed at my excited expression. “You said you wanted to go to Disneyworld. I got us passes for two weeks, starting Saturday."

I squealed, doing a little dance on his lap. "I can't believe I'm going to Disneyworld!"

Zayn laughed at my child-like reaction. "I must say, Jules, you've gotten me pretty excited about going to Disneyworld now."

I opened my arms. "It's the happiest place on earth! How can you not be excited?" A new thought popped into my head and I gasped, hopping up and down. "I get to meet Minnie Mouse!"

Zayn couldn't stop laughing at me as I nearly exploded. He just didn't understand—this was Minnie Mouse we were talking about! Minnie was the real HBIC when I was growing up, and for me to get to meet her in person…it was like meeting a legend, I couldn't even contain myself.

I was still buzzing around when Zayn lifted me up to carry me to bed. I continued to talk his ear off about our impending honeymoon, planning out all of the different rides we would have to get on.

"For someone who's never been, you sure do know a lot about it," Zayn said as he placed me on the bed.

"I've done my research," I answered seriously.

"Well, we are gonna be there for two weeks, Jules. We'll go on Space Mountain every day of you want."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," I said, sitting up on the bed so I could change into my pajamas. "We should get a picture with Ariel and King Triton and send it to my dad."

I heard Zayn snort from the bathroom. "This is why I'm marrying you."

"And the fireworks show, we have to see the fireworks show."

Zayn cut the bathroom light out, coming back into the bedroom. "We won't be leaving for another week, babe, you have plenty of time to map the trip out."

I nodded, trying to shut my brain off so I could go to sleep. "Okay, you're right. But just so you know this is probably the best gift anyone's ever gotten me, and I'll probably be talking about it for the next couple of years."

Zayn chuckled, bopping my face with one of the pillows. "Go to sleep, Jules."

 

***

 

I wiped my hands on the sides of my dress, hoping they weren't too sweaty as I shook Zayn's grandmother's hand. She had just arrived with his uncle and aunt, and was probably the first of his family members who seemed genuinely happy to meet me.

I take that back; Trisha has been nothing but kind to me since the dinner at her house. If I had to fight off all of Zayn's relatives, at least I knew Trisha would back me up.

Typically, the groom's side of the family was supposed to host the rehearsal dinner, but my father insisted on having it at Luciano's since the church was so close. Trisha and Yaser didn't mind, as it made their job a little bit easier. They just had to make sure everyone got here on time and behaved themselves. We had just finished the wedding rehearsal about twenty minutes ago, and everything went smoothly. I was keeping my fingers crossed that the dinner was going to be just as nice.

Zayn's grandmother insisted I call her Nani, and was patting my face while mumbling a combination of Urdu and English. It must've been good things because Zayn had that smile on his face where is eyes got all crinkly, so I found myself instantly liking Nani.

Luke had closed the restaurant down for the night, so it was just us in here. I was actually glad he had; despite the dinner usually being for the immediate family members, Zayn and I both had _large_ families, so even an intimate group of us took up nearly half the restaurant. At least this way we wouldn’t be disturbing innocent customers trying to eat their risotto in peace.

Zayn and I spent the first half hour going around the room and introducing ourselves to each other's families. While most of Zayn's relatives kept giving me the shifty eye with a plastered-on smile, my side of the family was ecstatic. All they could talk about how handsome Zayn was, how wealthy he looked (Nan had blabbed to everyone that he came from money), and how happy they were that I wasn't going to die alone. At least, I knew they didn't mean anything by their slightly offensive comments.

Luke had four waiting staff hired tonight to take care of this unruly crew, and they were running around frantically trying to make sure everyone was satisfied. I was gonna have to see that they were tipped very generously after tonight.

Zayn and I had finally taken a seat at our table, giving our orders to the waitress. Our table was larger than the rest of them, seating our parents, Zayn's sisters, Luke, Soph and Liam, Harry, and Nan. We were definitely the loudest table, and I was almost embarrassed due to the looks everyone sent us when my father let loose one of his booming laughs. I let it slide; he was actually cooperating for once and seemed to be having a good time.

I nibbled on a roll from the basket of bread on every table, waiting for my food while Zayn was absorbed in a conversation with Nan and his mom. I could only imagine what they were talking about. In the other side of me Soph, Liam, my father, and Luke had been laughing a joking around ever since the dinner started. I felt a little left out, but I didn't mind. I was happy to sit here and observe, scoping out my surroundings to make sure nothing went wrong.

I kept feeling a glare on the side of my face, and I knew it was nobody but Harry. He'd been sending me looks all night, despite the fact that I'm trying my hardest to ignore him. Finally unable to take any more, I glanced up at him, hoping my face was able to convey how annoyed I was. He raised his brow in question, nodding his head towards the back of the restaurant. I made a confused face, not sure what he wanted from me. He sighed, throwing his napkin off of his lap and scooting his chair back. He walked to where he gestured earlier, stopping outside the restrooms. I sighed, letting Zayn know that I was going to bathroom and would be right back. He squeezed my hand before giving me a chaste kiss.

When I reached the hallway with the restrooms I pushed him back so that no one would see us. I crossed my arms, giving him the bitch brow. "What do you want, Harry?"

He raised his brow back, opening his arms. "I can't congratulate my friend on her impending wedding?"

My expression didn't change. "Spare me the bullshit, okay? I just want this night to run as smoothly as possible, so can you please just tell me what you dragged me over here for?"

Some of Harry's resolve had faded and his shoulders slumped. "I miss you, Julie. You were like my best friend and now you can't even stand to look at me."

I huffed, looking down at my feet. "Yeah, that's what happens when you rat your 'best friend' out to her paranoid mob boss of a father. Not to mention you haven’t been supportive of me and Zayn ever since you found out about us. That doesn’t sound like a good friend to me.”

Harry sighed, placing his large hands on my shoulders. “Listen, Jules, I _really_ don’t like the idea of this. Something about Zayn just rubs me the wrong way. But he's not my friend, _you_ are. We’re pretty much stuck with each other for the rest of our lives and I’d hate for something this insignificant to come between us. I care about your well-being above all else.”

I shrugged his hands off of me. “If you care about my well-being so much, then you'd pull out whatever has crawled up your ass and _support_ me on this. My father doesn’t like Zayn enough as it is, having you whispering in his ear isn't making things any better. Zayn makes me happy, Harry, he cares for me and makes me feel safe. I'm tired of defending our relationship to everyone.”

“Jules, I just don’t think you realize how big of a decision this is,” Harry said, his voice taking on a slight pleading note. “I mean, marriage is a huge step—”

I threw my hands up, making a frustrated noise before pushing myself out of the small hallway. I didn’t have time to deal with Harry and all of his bullshit. I was going to be a married woman in less than twenty-four hours, and I was going to have the entire FBI Organized Crime Division roster at my ceremony. I had much better things to focus my time on.

Zayn smiled when I got back to the table. I gave him another quick kiss before I sat down.

He leaned over to whisper in my ear, “What did you and Harry talk about? You looked a little upset.”

I stiffened, before sighing and rubbing my hand across my forehead. I should've known he’d figure it out, the perceptive bastard. “He was just…being Harry. Just another person telling me how bad of an idea this is.”

Zayn pulled my hand away from my forehead, bringing it to his lips and placing a comforting kiss to the back of it. “ _Do_ you think this is a bad idea? It’s not too late to call it off.”

I smiled reassuringly at him. “My feet are toasty warm. I really do want to marry you. Besides, I didn’t spend the past two months around Nan and her wedding planning frenzy twenty-four-seven for nothing.”

Zayn chuckled, wrapping his arm around me to kiss my temple. “Good. I can't wait to meet you at the altar, Mrs. Malik.”

I grinned, liking the way that sounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last of my buffer chapters. I'll try and work on some more since things are finally starting to settle in on my end, but it may be a while before I'm able to update again. If it gets to be too long in between them, shoot me an ask on my blog or the AA blog to give me a kick in the ass ;)


	20. Qabool Kiya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap in between postings, this chapter was a little bit harder for me to write. I'm not Catholic or Muslim so I'm making a disclaimer on the wedding scences. I tried to keep it as accurate as possible, but if I got anything offensively wrong just shoot me an ask on the AA blog and I'll change it!

"You look so _beautiful_!"

My head whipped towards the doorway, Nan standing there with a hand over her mouth and big fat tears streaming down her face. Soph had just finished fastening the long string of buttons that trailed down my back and I was standing at full height, giving her the full effect of the dress. I had the seamstress get rid of the outdated lace sleeves and high neck collar, adding cap straps to the sweetheart neckline. The wider silhouette was taken in, giving it a subtle mermaid shape. I was in love with the laced-lined chapel train, though, and decided to keep it along with the veil that draped over the crown of my head and flowed all the way down to the floor, almost a foot longer than the train. The seamstress had truly done a great job at keeping the essential elements of my mother’s original dress in there. It was still very classic while adding just a touch of modernity.

If my emotions weren't all over the place I would've rolled my eyes at Nan; she was there for every dress fitting and had even offered her opinion on some of the alterations. I guess it just didn't truly register that I was getting married until she saw me all made up, the dress finally completed.

Nan was dressed in an adorable periwinkle pantsuit, her short hair styled up in elegant pin curls. She walked over to me with her arms out, gripping the tops of mine while she continued to cry. The little room located in the corner of the church was barely big enough for me and Soph, but I was willing to make an exception for Nan.

"You look just like your mother," she whispered with a watery smile. "So, so beautiful. She would've been so proud of you."

I sniffed, my eyes pricking a little. "Oh, Nan, stop it—I don't want to cry just yet." Nan had loved my mother as if she was one of her own, especially since she didn't have any daughters. She adored her, and was devastated when she died.

Soph handed Nan a tissue and she dried her eyes. "You're right, I'm sorry. I just…I can't believe my Julietta is getting married! To have both of my grandchildren married before the age of thirty…I can finally put my yenta hat to rest."

I did roll my eyes this time. "Thank God. I was tired of hearing about Anita's grandson, who would drive her back and forth to bingo nights."

"He was a sweet boy!" Nan protested. "When was the last time you drove me around?"

"Never, because you have your own private driver."

Soph snickered behind me and Nan huffed. We kicked her out shortly after so Soph could finish getting ready. Her hair and makeup was already done, she just had to slip her dress on. Since I'd let her pick out her own, she chose a dress that was baby-bump friendly. The empire cut helped slim down the bump that seemed to sprout overnight, and the lilac color highlighted the tan that still hadn't faded from her honeymoon.

"Not too long ago I was doing this for you," she said as I zipped her dress up.

I sighed contentedly. "I know."

She turned around to face me. “You're really doing this, huh? You _really_ sure? Not too late to back out, y’know.”

I smiled. “I'm really sure. Honestly, Soph, this is the happiest I've ever been.”

She nodded, fighting back a smile of her own. There were two soft knocks on the wooden door, and I called out before Zayn's sisters poked their head in. Safaa ran right up to me, telling me over and over how pretty I looked while I returned the compliment. And she did look adorable in her deep pink ruffled dress, her hair in a fancy braid down her back. She even had on some sheer pink lip gloss. Doniya and Waliyha were right behind her, greeting Soph politely. We had gotten closer over the past two months, but we still weren’t best friends. And that was okay. As long as they tolerated me enough so that we could be civil towards each other whenever we were forced into interaction I think we’ll be just fine. Besides, I already had a best friend, and that bitch wasn’t sharing me with any-fucking-body.

After we had properly fawned over each other my father knocked on the door, covering his eyes as he inched his way in. "Is everybody decent in here?"

I giggled. "Yes, Daddy."

He uncovered his eyes, his face morphing into a big dopey smile. "Julie, you look beautiful." He came over and grabbed my hands, holding me out at arms length. "And I'm not just saying that because I'm your old man; you really are stunning."

I blushed, lowering my head. "Thanks, Daddy. You look nice, too." And he did; his dark hair was slicked back, and he was wearing a fitted black suit with a rose on the lapel. Even at his age, Nicolas Payne was still a looker.

Soph and Zayn's sisters had already left so they could find their escort and line up. It was just my dad and I now, and even though he had been kicking his feet this whole time, he seemed to be pretty happy today.

"It's not too late to back out of this," he told me suddenly, looking intently into my eyes. I guess all that happiness was just a ruse. "I got my Beretta tucked in my jacket pocket, I can light the bastards up if I need to."

I sighed, wanting to run my hand across my forehead but not wanting to mess up my makeup. "Daddy, I want to do this. I _like_ Zayn, spending the rest of my life with him isn't a prison sentence. And if helps out the family along the way, well, what's the harm in that?"

He let out a heavy sigh of his own. "You're _really_ sure about this? I mean it, Julie, just say the word and it's _yippee ki-yay_ motherfucker, got it?"

I didn't even know what to say to him, caught between laughing and scolding him. I just held my arm out, giving him a stern look before he looped his through mine. I could hear the music starting up and knew I only had a few seconds before it switched into Pachebel's Canon. Daddy led me to the back of the line, behind Soph and Liam, who turned around to smile at me, Soph squealing one last time before it was time for the two of them to walk down the aisle.

We heard the beginning notes start up and my hands started to slick; I gripped my bouquet tightly so it wouldn’t slide right through my fingers. I gave my father’s arm a squeeze before he took the first step through the church doors.

And suddenly I wasn’t so nervous anymore. I didn’t care about the dozens of Mafiosi in room, or Zayn's family who mildly tolerated me, or my father and his bruised ego. My eyes focused in on Zayn, looking so handsome in his black suit, and everyone’s thoughts of this being a mistake didn’t matter anymore. I was about to _marry_ Zayn, and he was the the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on, and he was looking at me as if I’d hung the stars in the sky. His face stretched out into a wide grin when he saw me, and I couldn’t keep mine contained. I barely registered my father answering the priest and placing my hand in Zayn's. I knew that I’d made the right choice, and that this is where I wanted to be for the rest of my life.

Zayn and I both turned towards the priest as he began to address the congregation. “You look so beautiful, Jules,” he leaned over to whisper into my ear.

I smiled, lowering my head a little. “You do, too.”

He chuckled softly, giving my hand a squeeze.

_Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…_

I listened with mild interest to the priest, only tuning back in when it was time for the vows. We stuck with the traditional vows, but I still got a little emotional hearing Zayn say them. Judging by his glassy eyes, I’d say he was a little choked up, too. I could vaguely remember squeaking out a feeble _I do_ after the priest asked the final question.

The priest asked for the rings, Soph and Ant stepping forward. Zayn went first, taking my hand gently in his.

_Wear this ring as a sign of my love and dedication…_

My hands shook as I slid the silver band onto Zayn's finger, but I couldn’t help reveling in how good it looked there. The two of us smiled dopily at each other, reigning ourselves in when the priest subtly cleared his throat.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” he paused, smiling at us. “You may kiss the bride.”

Zayn lifted his hand, brushing the backs of his fingers gently across my cheek before pulling me in for a kiss. We tried to keep it as short and sweet as possible, but once our lips touched I realized that I wanted to jump him right there at the altar. Zayn had to practically push me back, winking at me when I pouted at the loss of contact.

The priest, at least, seemed amused at the little display, giving the blessing and his closing remarks. We decided to skip the communion and Lord’s prayer due to the amount of non-Catholic attendants, though Nan hadn’t talked to me for two days after I’d suggested it. I could see her crying her eyes out from her seat in the front row, so I figured all was forgiven.

The congregation cheered as Zayn and I made our way back up the aisle. We stayed in the church lobby for another hour while everyone came up to congratulate us, grabbing our faces in between their hands and planting kisses on our mouths. Nan was first in line, crying all over my dress and Zayn's suit. Seeing her so happy almost brought a few tears to my own eyes. There was a table off to the side stacked with thick envelopes; usually the mobsters left their ‘wedding gift’ during the reception, but since not everyone was going to be attending, they dropped them off for me as they left the church.

I smiled at Petey DeGrazzio as he slowly made his was up to me. I hadn’t seen him in years; he was still in the hospital during Soph's wedding, recovering from the incident with his son. His wife, Elaine, and his daughter, Theresa, were hovering behind him to make sure he didn’t have any trouble supporting himself with the cane.

“It’s so good to see you, Uncle Petey,” I said as I pulled him in for a hug.

“Nico tried to talk me out of it,” he said in his smoke-raspy voice. “But I’d already missed one of his kid’s weddings, they would've had to roll me in here in a casket if he thought I was missing another one.”

I was touched. “Aw, Petey, I would've understood.”

He waved me away. “We’re family, we show out for these kinds of things. Plus,” he leaned closer, away from Elaine and Theresa, “these two have been on my ass ever since I got out the hospital. I couldn’t stand another minute trapped in that house with them. This wedding was a gift from God.”

I shook my head, unable to keep myself from laughing, catching Theresa’s exasperated eye roll. Petey was my father’s closest friend in the business aside from Luke, and I had missed seeing him around.

“You look beautiful, by the way. And your groom ain't too bad, either.” He leaned in closer again. “Let me know if the shmuck gives you any trouble, alright? I’ll have the whole DeGrazzio family down here in a heartbeat to show you fuckers how we do it in Chicago.”

“Alright, old man, time to get you back to bed,” Theresa piped in, jumping over to lead her father away. I chuckled at her apologetic expression, not taking any of it to heart. Petey’s always been a character.

Zayn and I greeted the last of the guests before we were whisked away for pictures outside of the church. We were doing two sets of pictures, one now and one after the _nikah_ ceremony. We kept it traditional, but I couldn't help whacking Soph with my bouquet a few times after she made an inappropriate comment, the two of us giggling happily. The photographer seemed to roll with it, catching more candid shots of us.

We split from the bridal party after pictures. They were all going to be in one limo to ride back to my father's house in Staten Island while Zayn and I had one to ourselves. Everyone waved and blew kisses as they saw us off, and I tried not to get teary-eyed again. I was so happy, I felt like all of it was going to bubble over.

As soon as we were a safe distance away Zayn pulled me close, burying his face in my neck. "How does it feel being a married woman, Mrs. Malik?" he asked, placing a kiss on the spot between my neck and shoulder.

I hummed in response. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing that."

I could feel the smirk in his voice as he said, "You're so beautiful, Mrs. Malik." He placed a kiss higher up, behind my ear. "Stunning." Kiss. "Ravishing." Kiss.

I shivered, turning his head so that our lips connected. I didn't want to mess up my lipstick, but fuck it, I'd just gotten married and wanted to kiss my husband. I could have someone fix it for me later. Zayn's hand came up to cradle my face, his other hand sliding me over so I was on his lap. The kiss was fiery, and I wanted to straddle him but was restrained by my dress. We had at least another ten minutes before we reached Staten Island and that was more than enough time for a quickie in the spacious limo.

I ran my hands down Zayn's chest, unbuttoning his suit jacket and sliding it off his shoulders. His tongue explored my mouth as I pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his slacks. I could feel him searching for the zipper of my dress but I smacked his hands away.

"It'll take too long getting out of this thing," I told him. He looked genuinely upset, and I gave a little nibble to his pouty bottom lip. "Besides, think of how much better it'll be when you can peel it off me tonight."

Zayn let out a low growl, pulling me in to another kiss. I let my hands wander down to the bulge in his pants, giving it a squeeze. He moaned, leaning his forehead against mine.

"Jules, I'm not going to make it if you keep doing that," he breathed out.

I brought my kisses down to his neck, sucking lightly so I wouldn't leave a mark. "That's the point, sweet husband."

He moaned again, making no move to stop me as I slid off his lap and onto the floor of the limo. It was big enough for me to kneel between Zayn's legs comfortably. I ran my hands up and down his thighs, stopping to unzip his trousers and pull his dick out. Zayn was breathing heavier, his eyes hooded as he watched my movements. I kept our eyes locked together as I leaned forward on my knees, licking a stripe up the underside of his dick. Zayn threw his head back, his hands flailing to hold on to something. I took him deeper, swallowing almost to the hilt. He grabbed on to one of my free hands, lacing our fingers together before he brought it to his mouth to gently bite down on.

I sucked him in earnest. This was his first blowjob as a married man and I was gonna make sure he came so hard he couldn't see straight. I could tell he was trying not to mess up my hair, bless him, his hands letting go of mine to grip my shoulders as he thrust into my mouth. I probably had spit dribbling down my chin, but I was enjoying this as much as he was, and couldn't find it in myself to give a fuck.

I moaned around his dick and Zayn let out a pained whine. "Jules, fuck I'm so close."

I brought up my hand to massage his balls, hollowing my cheeks as I went back down. I moaned again when he thrusted his hips, taking his hand and putting it on the back of my neck. He gripped it tightly, pushing me down slightly as he thrust one last time and came in my mouth with a guttural growl. I caught the few drops that leaked out with my fingertips, making sure he was watching as I sucked his come off them. He pulled me up and crashed our lips together, not even caring that his dick was still out.

"Tonight it's going to be my turn," he whispered in my ear, and the tone of his voice alone was almost enough to make me come on the spot. "I'm going to worship every part of you until you're _begging_ for me. And then I'm going to fuck you so good, Jules, the only thing you'll know how to do is scream my name."

I clamped my legs together in an attempt to ease the pressure between my thighs, letting out a feeble whimper. We were pulling into my father's long driveway, and all I wanted to do was ride Zayn's dick like a fucking pony. I was very tempted to call the reception off and send everybody home.

I kissed him again with enough fervor that it was almost painful as our teeth clacked together. I mussed up his hair a little, not caring if I was making it obvious that we just had sex. Zayn smiled the smile that I loved, the one with the eye crinkles, and pretended to snap at my nose.

"Come on, husband," I said, loving the way it sounded. "We still have one more wedding to go to."

 

***

 

Trisha's face was scrunched in concentration as she finished pinning the _lehenga._ Waliyha and Doniya were busy making sure the long veil covered my hair just right, and securing the veil over my face. I kept taking deep breaths, more nervous now than I was for the first ceremony. I still wanted Zayn's family to like me, and this was the part that really mattered to them. I was new to this, and I was afraid of screwing it up.

Trisha stepped back, a watery smile spread across her face. "You're so pretty, Jules, just beautiful."

Waliyha and Doniya made little noises of agreement and I couldn't help blushing. My _lehenga_ was two pieces, both a deep red with thousands of shimmering embellishments. This veil was almost as long as the one on my wedding dress, stopping just at my waist. A dozen gold bangles lined each of my arms along with a heavy necklace and earrings. I certainly looked the part, and Trisha was grinning at me as if I were one of her real daughters getting married. I guess to her I was; we'd gotten so close over these past two months and after the ceremony was finished it'd be official.

She grabbed both my hands, giving them a firm squeeze. "It's time for us to leave, I'll see you out there." She pulled me in for a quick hug. "You're going to do fine," she whispered in my ear.

She must've sensed how nervous I was. I smiled back in thanks, but it was still obvious that I was still so wound up. The only thing now was to actually get the ceremony over with.

My father was waiting outside, entering my old bedroom when Trisha and Zayn's sisters had left. He smiled when he saw me. "I know I've already said it, but Julie you look beautiful. It suits you."

I lowered my head bashfully. "Thank you, Daddy."

He held out his arm. "You ready to get this show on the road?"

I smiled, looping my arm through his for a second time today. Since the _nikah_ was a more private affair, we were having it in my father's large dining room with just our close friends and family present. The rest of the guests were in the backyard, where the reception was being held. Zayn assured me that the _nikah_ was quick and would be over in no time.

My father helped me maneuver the heavy dress down the stairs as we made our way to the dining room. There was a partition splitting the room in two, with the males sitting on one side and the females sitting on the other. Zayn and I weren't able to see each other until after the ceremony was over. Trisha had explained to me what he was going to be wearing, and I was anxious to see him in his traditional dress.

I could hear him just fine, though. Yaser was acting as the priest, reading the verses from the Quran and the terms of the _nikah naama_ , the contract Zayn and I had written together a few days ago. He read them to me first, and I tried to keep my voice steady as I replied with _qabool kiya,_ voicing my agreement to the contract _._ He then read them to Zayn, whose voice was sure and strong as he said the same. Yaser finished with a few more prayers, before announcing that we reveal ourselves to each other.

I turned and felt my heart stutter at the sight of my husband. His sleek black tux was gone, replaced with the light gold _sherwani_ with a red and darker gold embroidery. The coat came just past his knees, his puffy red pants just barely visible. He looked good, _really_ good. He was smiling brilliantly at me as he lifted the veil back from my face. It was infectious, and I was feeling just as euphoric. I vaguely registered the sound of our friends and family clapping; Zayn and I had actually done it, we'd actually gotten married. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also made a post on the AA blog for what I think each of their wedding outfits look like, so be sure to check that out!


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